Or Perhaps the Decree of Fate
by korr
Summary: Set Pre-Dethklok, an unlucky Charles, who starts off as a timid law clerk, meets Nathan and his life gets turned upside down as his apartment slowly becomes a halfway home for wayward musicians. SLASH
1. Chapter 1

Author Notes: This was written for Brutal Business's Nathan/Charles month. It was posted under the name Onychophran if you want to look me up on LJ. The updates will be happening on LJ first, in case you were wondering. kirai_slasher, also from LJ, Beta'ed most of this. Praise goes to her, blame for typos goes to me.

Disclaimer: I do not own Metalocalypse, nor do I own any of the works of Gordon Korman whom I reference with alarming frequency.

Part one

While he had gone to Harvard Law, he hadn't exactly graduated at the top of his class. If you were feeling particularly generous you could say he graduated in the middle of his class. In the sense that if you weren't the top and you weren't the bottom then you were probably somewhere in the middle. But Harvard law was still Harvard law and he'd been able to find a job. Not as a lawyer, heavens no, he still couldn't pass the bar. No he was a clerk for a firm that specialized in copyright law. Not exactly the thrilling world of criminal defense he'd seen on TV but it paid the bills and allowed him to keep a small apartment in the city proper.

He was actually only a day away from taking the bar again and he'd decided to go out and relax. Cramming the night before an exam never really helped. You've already learned what you were going to learn and further cramming just made you stress. So he donned his good going out pants and went out for the evening.

He picked this cute little basement club, walking distance from his apartment. It had a beatnik feel and often featured experimental "performers". Last time Charles was here the "entertainment" had been a particularly hairy man reading avant-garde poetry in tune to his bongo playing. Still it was usually pretty relaxing and great for taking his mind off of things. He order a soda (you just don't drink before a big exam, even idiots know that) and sat down at the end of the bar to await the next act.

The band was called "Nuclear Teacup" and what happed next surprised almost everybody. The music started off normal, almost classical. It had an edgy bent to it but that was in keeping with the atmosphere. Then from the shadows stepped an oversized Specter of Death and he started to sing. Strike that, it wasn't singing so much as a melodic guttural scream. While impossible to make out any one phase, Charles is quite sure he hears the words death and guts repeated.

After only one song they are hurried off stage and replaced by an ageing flower child with a kazoo.

With only the background noise to distract him, his thoughts turn to his up coming exam and all the anxieties inherent in them. This will be his third try on the bar. It's not that Charles is dumb, it's more that he's unlucky. Exams always seem to ask the one question he doesn't know the answer to. Or he'll think he knows the answer but it turns out it was the wrong question. Charles doesn't know what's wrong with him. He's got a near genius IQ and he's no slacker but some how it seems he can never do anything right. It's a wonder he graduated law school in the first place.

Morosely Charles orders another soda and tries to be interested in the activities on stage. He finds himself nostalgic for the previous act and their dark Neanderthal.

Speak of the devil. The whole bar creaks as the giant sits down next to him. Up close Charles can see that the Specter of Death illusion is brought on by white pancake make up covering most of his face. The stringy black hair and the piercing green eyes are all natural though.

"Stupid jack off hippies," the Specter of Death murmurs into his newly ordered beer.

Charles turns toward him, preferring any company to the company of his own thoughts.

"Well, I thought you weren't half bad, almost hypnotic in a way."

Death turns to look at him for the first time and Charles feels strangely trapped under his gaze.

"The like owner dude didn't seem to think so."

"It doesn't mean you're not good, you're just not right for this club. How did you get this job anyway?"

Death scrunches up his face in a look of concentration. "I...uh think I hypnotized the planner chick."

Charles laughs. It stands to reason that death personified would be charming. How else would he talk so many people into sloughing off their mortal coil?

They get to talking and Charles finds Death to be good company. As it turns out death is named Nathan and he wants to form his own band. Nuclear Teacup is really a friend's band and he can't help but feel like he's screwing it up. He wants to play death metal instead of death avant-garde but he doesn't know where to start. Charles gives him his best lawyerly advice despite not being a real lawyer yet and is surprised at how easily it suddenly comes to him. For the first time since graduating he feels like he could actually be a good lawyer.

Charles has to leave early so he can get a good nights sleep for the exam. When Charles explains and gets up to leave Nathan grabs his hand. As he looks down at him Charles is again reminded of an otherworldly specter. Half expecting the world around him to disappear and fade into some haunted setting, Charles is surprise when Nathan merely wishes him luck.

The next day Charles takes his exam and passes with flying colors.


	2. Side story one

Side one (side story to Or Perhaps the Decree of Fate)

AN: Charles' first meeting with Nathan from Nathan's point of view. (set during part one of "Or Perhaps the Decree of Fate") this is not truly part of the main story, but i'm including the side stories so they are easy to find.

--

Nathan couldn't have been more surprised when the little man started to talk to him. This club was full of jack-off hippies and jack-off hippies were usually too scared to talk to him. But this little guy wasn't. Then again this little guy didn't look a thing like a hippie. No stupid free Tibet shirt or hemp jewelry. No smug sense of self righteousness. Just cute, little reading glasses and too tight jeans.

Nathan could tell from the way he spoke that they had no business talking to each other. This guy was well educated and Nathan had been too dumb for public high school. Nathan would have just walked away before the little guy could figure out his mistake but it had been a lousy night. This guy was easy to talk to. Nathan really wished he'd paid more attention to his name. It started with a "C". Chuck or maybe Charlie.

Nathan really liked the way he didn't talk down to him. Most people take one look at him and start talking like he's an idiot. But not this guy. And yeah okay, he doesn't understand all the big words but Nathan really appreciates that the other man isn't dumbing it down for him.

Later on, the conversation turns to what they want to be. The little guy wants to be a lawyer and it's just too perfect. Nathan can picture him in a fancy suit with a blood red tie, crushing people at his feet. It is a truly brutal image.

When the little guy(Charles maybe?) turns the question around and asks Nathan, he hesitates. Everyone he's ever told about his dream of becoming a rock star just laughs. They all said he was too dumb or too ugly to ever make it big. But when Nathan tells Charles he doesn't laugh at all. He treats the matter with complete seriousness and gives Nathan advice on what to do. Like he actually believes Nathan could make his dream come true.

Too soon Charles has too leave, some stupid test in the morning. Before he can walk out of Nathan's life, he stops him. Nathan wants to tell him how great it's been talking to him. How much it means that someone believed in him, even if only for a minute. But he doesn't have the words. So Nathan wishes him luck and silently swears that they will meet again.


	3. Chapter 2

Part two

It's only been a few days since Charles finished the bar so he doesn't have the official results yet. Those take a few months to get back to him. But unofficially he knows he passed and the feeling is good. Even running the menial errands for his office can't get him down.

While photocopying something in triplicate his mind wanders back to the Specter of Death he met the night before the exam. Not superstitious by nature Charles wonders for the hundredth time if Death didn't have something to do with his passing. Since that night he's kept an eye out for any mention of his band, but no one has ever heard of them. As skeptical as Charles is he can't help but wonder if Nathan was not really some sort of otherworldly sprit who showed up to wish him luck and then disappeared back to the underworld.

Charles is brought out of his musings by the office's mousey administrative assistant.

"Uh, there is a gorilla in the lobby and he says he's here to see you?" She is clearly uncomfortable from the unfamiliar situation. Charles doesn't blame her, how often does one meet a gorilla face to face in an office building?

A gorilla he ponders, leaving his photocopying on his desk. Now why would a gorilla be here to see me? Walking into the lobby he recognize him immediately.

"Nathan, what are you doing here?"

So Death hadn't gone back to the underworld after all. But how had he known where to find him?

"Oh thank god, it's the right you." Death looks relieved. "Do you know how many er, lawyer places in this city have clerks named Charles?"

Charles feels that there are a great many questions raised by that comment but the administrative assistant has had enough gossip for one day.

"I'm going on my break, I'll be back later," he tells her simultaneously ushering Death back into the elevator.

In side the elevator Charles gets his first good look at Death with out his make up. He looks almost handsome and far less wraith like. He may even have to stop thinking of him as Death like this.

"Did you really check every law office in the city looking for a Charles?"

"I couldn't remember your uh, last name."

"Offdensen."

"Oh."

Once in the lobby it occurs to Charles that he has no idea where they were going or why Nathan had gone to such great lengths to find him.

"I took your advice, about starting my own band and stuff." There was a pause as Nathan gathered his thoughts. "I think I found a drummer and I want you to come with me."

"Why me?"

"Because you're the band manager."

Charles did not remember agreeing to anything and he hadn't been drunk that night.

"How did I get to be manager?" Charles asked confused.

"Because you are."

Charles would have argued but well, it was never wise to argue with Death.

So that was how he found himself inside a faded rehab center talking to a balding glam rocker named Pickles. That simply can not be his real name. Nathan had just finished explaining the idea to him. Remarkably Pickles (No really who names a kid Pickles, Charles genuinely wanted to know) didn't seem to find the idea half as crazy as Charles did.(if he had any sense he would walk out right now a pretend this had all been a really weird dream)

"I dun know dood, death metal? It seems kinda brutal."

"Dude I know, it's totally brutal. That's the whole fucking point."

"From a monetary stand point, a death metal band could be a quite lucrative venture."

They both starred uncomprehendingly at him. You're not in law school anymore, Charlie.

"It could make you rich." That, he understood.

"Dood! Why didn' you say so!"

Nathan beamed directly at Charles, clearly pleased with his contribution. Charles started to feel his heart flutter and cursed. He though he killed off any feelings like that ages ago. It was counter productive to his continued wellbeing to fall for a man that could pass for death on steroids.

While Charles had been having his own internal rant, the other two had been busy planning.

"Dood I know this great guitar guy, he's got like the fastest fingers around."

"Dude that's fucking awesome, do you think he'll join us?"

"Yeah man, he's been kicked outa every other band in town."

"Wait, what?" Charles interrupted Nathan's cheering.

"Yeah, he keeps fucking other people's girlfriends 'n junk."

"That's fine, I don't have a girlfriend."

"Me nether." added Pickles.

"Me nether." echoed Charles.

Was it just his imagination or did Nathan give him a hopeful look after hearing that? No, wait, killing that part of himself dead. Dead dead dead dead.

That was better.

Pickles agreed to bring him over to Nathan's tomorrow around seven. They both took down the address and then Charles had to run. He'd long overstayed his lunch break.


	4. Chapter 3

Part three

He almost didn't show. If he didn't go, then he couldn't be dragged any further into this insanity. But it wasn't like he had anywhere else to be on a Friday night. He had no friends, no hobbies, no close family. His roommates used to call him robot, all he ever did was study. Well, Charles was going to make sure that no one called him a robot ever again. It was time he got a life. And anyway, if he didn't show up, Nathan would probably just come bug him at work again. The last thing he needed was regular reports of a gorilla in the lobby looking for him.

Nathan's apartment complex came as no surprise. It was pretty much the sort of dump you would expect a poor musician to be living in. The pealing wallpaper in the hallway hadn't been fashionable in so long Charles was having trouble even placing the decade. The majority of the lighting was dead. The rats were fearless, unafraid of a lone human in what was clearly their territory. There was a concerning hole in the floor near Nathan's door. Charles didn't think this was covered by his life insurance policy.

He knocked again, louder. It was 7:05 and Charles was late. He hoped no one would be upset. Another knock. He couldn't hear anything, maybe they'd left and gone somewhere without him.

Finally he heard the shuffling of feet and the door opened. The first thing he noticed was the broad expanse of bare chest. He'd woken Nathan up.

"What are you doing here so early?" said Nathan groggily while rubbing his eyes.

"Actually I'm late, what are you doing still asleep?"

Nathan grumbled something unintelligible and ushered him inside. If the hallway was bad this was worse. There was extensive water damage in the ceiling. The door leading to the bathroom was broken and off it's hinges. The floor had a deep crack in it pointing toward the kitchen nook. The furniture was sparse and every available surface was covered in empty beer cans. Nathan cleared a few off the sofa to offer Charles a seat. Charles was pretty sure the vague floral pattern was the result of mold but he sat down anyway.

"So," began Nathan after a moment of silence. "Can I get you a beer or something?"

"No thank you Nathan," replied Charles. Why compromise his immune system. He was going to need all the help he could get to get out of this rat trap alive. Charles tried to appear comfortable while touching as little of the sofa as possible.

Nathan disappeared behind a doorway with a large chunk of the frame missing and returned a moment later wearing a black shirt.

"Did you get in trouble for missing work yesterday?"

"It's funny that you should ask that. I managed to arrive just in time to solve a major crisis and make it look like I planed the whole thing. I think they're giving me a raise."

"Oh, good."

"That happened last time too."

"What?"

"That good luck. Normally I think I'm cursed but when I'm with you good things seem to happen"

Nathan thought back for a moment. "Does that mean you passed your lawyery test the first time?"

"Well I won't know for sure for a couple of months but I think so."

"They make you wait months to find out if you passed? Brutal."

Charles chuckled. Brutal seemed to be almost a catch phrase.

The door burst open and in walked Pickles with a tall statuesque blond.

"This place is dump." The statue said in lofty, fractured English. He was clearly foreign, maybe Scandinavian?

Nathan reached down next to the sofa and grabbed a couple of warm beers to offer to the guests. Charles raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"'fridge is broken," mumbled Nathan.

"So you ams the crazy persons what's wanting to starts band."

"Yup that's me!" said Nathan, not at all put off being referred to as a crazy person

"Ja and who ams the little mousy robot?"

Would Charles ever escape that dreaded nickname? Was there a 'made in Japan' stamped somewhere on his person that everyone but him could see? Charles opened his mouth to explain but Nathan beat him to it.

"That's Charles, the, uh, band manager."

"Hi" squeaked Charles feeling useless.

The statuesque blond sat down on the coffee table, unconcerned of the mess. Strapped to his back was a guitar. Taking a swig from his beer the blond introduced himself. "I ams Skwisgaar, guitar gods. You ams all lucky to bees in my pre-sents."

Charles wasn't too sure about that but Nathan seemed suitably impressed.

"Is it true?" Charles felt like he missed half the question Nathan had asked, but Skwisgaar had no such problem.

Cocky, like a predatory cat who know with out a doubt that he is gods gift to all creation, he reached back and pulled out his guitar. He took his time adjusting and tuning it. After all, if he had deigned to perform for mere mortals, they could jolly well wait for him to be good and ready. Then suddenly his fingers were a blur. Charles couldn't tell if he was good, but he certainly was fast. Was fast good? He really didn't know enough about music to manage a band. Nathan was clearly thrilled. If he'd been anyone else he would have been clapping his hands with glee. But that just wasn't brutal.

Pickles had his drumsticks with him. He started banging along on any available surface, in tune to the guitar playing. The coffee table, the walls, even at one point the TV, all functioned as make shift drums. Remarkably the lack of an instrument wasn't as much of a handicap as one might think. Charles wasn't aware that they were playing any song known to man, but Nathan joined right in, with words and everything.

Charles was in awe. It was still a crazy idea but watching them play it felt a little less crazy. After a life time of doing the right thing maybe it was time for him to make some crazy choices.

When the playing ended he was so moved he stood up to clap furiously. He realized belatedly how stupid he must look. But it turned out to be a good thing as the next second the couch started to slip away from him and crash into a great hole in the floor.

Well that wasn't there a minute ago.

It seemed their enthusiastic playing had been more that the poor abused building could take. What was only a crack in the floor when Charles had entered was now a gapping void. The moldy sofa and a veritable torrent of beer cans had fallen down to the floor below. Charles had been saved from a similar fate by shear luck. In the distance one could hear sirens and someone below them shouting obscenities. Pickles and Skwisgaar were out of there so fast, you couldn't see them for the dust.


	5. Chapter 4

Part four

They were lucky, the downstairs neighbor happened to be out so no one was hurt. The sirens must have been unrelated because no cops showed up. The yelling however, was related. The building manager had heard the crash and was less than thrilled at the destruction. He showed up down stairs first. Looking straight at Nathan through the hole in the ceiling he used a few choice words no gentleman would repeat. He ordered them both to stay right where they were.

He must have broken some sort of record for he was banging at Nathan's door less than thirty seconds after he had disappeared from the downstairs apartment. He wasn't a very fit man, so it really was quite the accomplishment. With a grim look he surveyed the damage and took a preparatory breath.

"You no good dumb lazy son of a bitch. Do you see the damage you've cause. Why I oughta kick you out right now. Damn caveman always stomping around up here. Ruin my damn apartment building will yah. I oughta send you cross the street. Why couldn't you wreck Pleshakov's building. Would have served him right for stealing my tenants. How do you expect me to fix this, ya dumb ox. I oughta sue you for every penny you've got."

For a fat, lazy, slob the man had the lung capacity of an Olympic athlete. Charles was impressed, and here he thought lawyers were supposed to be the biggest wind bags around. This guy had them beat.

Nathan paled at the implied threat of legal action. Charles did not have to ask to know that he couldn't afford a law suit. If he could, he wouldn't have been living here in the first place.

Charles gathered every last bit of his lawyerly sense and waited for the building manager to take a breath. When he did Charles started pointing out each and every building code violation he could see. When he was done with those he made up a few more just for good measure. Reference enough fictional bylaws and most people would just assume you knew what you where talking about.

By the time he was done even the remaining floor boards were quaking in fear. Charles let himself be convince not to sue but no matter what he said, Nathan was out one apartment. The building manager unhelpfully reiterated his suggestion that he should move across the street and wreak their joint instead.

Nathan was given till the end of the day to get out. No charges or fees would be filed. When the manager left Nathan gave a celebratory roar, sounding something like a bomb going off. He grabbed Charles by the waist and swung him around, narrowly missing the hole in the floor.

"You are the best, most brutal lawyer ever!"

Still being swung around by his favorite specter of death Charles tried to speak clearly.

"Well Nathan, I'm not exactly a lawyer yet. And I was making most of it up."

"Whatever man, you're still a great lawyer."

Nathan put Charles down and started shuffling around the room, collecting things.

"Where are you going to stay?"

Unearthing a torn, black, spiral notebook from under a pile of mostly empty beer cans he responded. "I don't know. My friend from nuclear teacup is still pretty pissed at how I quit."

"Don't you have any other friends you could stay with?"

In a manner that was completely unsubtle Nathan turned towards Charles and gave him a look that was probably supposed to be puppy dog eyes. In actuality it looked like he'd swallowed something unpleasant and had an itch on his nose.

Charles sighed. "Really Nathan?"

Nathan gave what was probably supposed to be a whimper, but came out more like a growl.

Charles caved. The growl was kind of cute. "Fine, you can stay with me but only until you find your own place." Nathan cheered and hugged Charles again.

"Awesome! Do you mind if I bring my TV?"

"Nathan, I already have a TV." He wasn't that much of a joyless robot. He had a TV. It was not plugged in and it was covered by a mountain of legal documents, but he had a TV.

"Not like mine you don't." Charles looked more closely at the TV. He couldn't see anything obviously special about it. It was probably even older than the one that Charles never used.

"What's so special about it?"

"It's got this brutal hole in the center of the screen that sucks in light. It's like metaphoric or something."

"Fine, go get the rest of your stuff." Nathan went into his bedroom and riffled around for a few minutes, shoving what looked mostly like clothing into two black garbage bags. He assembled them in the living room next to the broken TV and the black notebook.

"Don't forget your toothbrush." Charles reminded him helpfully.

Nathan cocked his head to the side and looked confused. Great now he manages to look like a puppy. "Never mind, I have extras." Charles didn't know how he was going to get through this.

Nathan handed the lone notebook to Charles. He then transferred both giant garbage bags to one hand and heft up the TV with the other.

"Let's go."

"Nathan, at least let me help you," he fretted.

"Its fine. You're carrying my notebook. Now let's go!"

Charles' apartment was a subway ride away, but luckily it was after ten o'clock on a Friday night. People weren't giving them that many weird stares, like they would have been any other day of the week. The weren't even the weirdest sight on the train. That dubious honor belonged to a drag queen at the other end of the car who was such an eye sore he must have been trying to mix clashing patterns. The afore mentioned drag queen gave a flirty little wave toward Nathan who was too busy trying not to drop the TV to notice.

Charles' apartment was moderate in everything. It was moderately priced in a moderately wealthy neighborhood. His neighbors were moderately disinterest and the super kept things working moderately well. The apartment was moderately sized with moderate furnishings. There was nothing flashy or remarkable about any of it, except the moderate pile of law review journals on every available surface.

Charles showed Nathan around what little there was to see. It had an open floor plan with the kitchen, dining room and living room all sharing the same space. The afore mentioned TV was tucked away under a pile of papers on the counter top. A short hallway lead to the bathroom, office, and master bedroom. There really wasn't that much to see.

"I've got a second bedroom but it's an office and the living room couch is probably more comfortable anyway."

Nathan nodded and set up his TV where it could be seen from the couch.

"Awesome, you have cable!"

With the TV now turned on Charles could see the dead zone Nathan had been talking about. It was almost poetic to watch some mindless Hollywood drivel with a black hole in the center of it.

"Werewolves, great! I love this shit!"

Nathan sprawled out on the sofa using one of his garbage bags for a pillow. Charles walked to the linen closet and grabbed an extra pillow and blanket. While he was in the area he grabbed an extra toothbrush and a towel too. Walking back into the living room he placed the things in front of Nathan who was cheering on what looked to be a man with a chainsaw. It was hard to tell. There was a big black spot when his chainsaw should have been.

Walking into his pristine, neutral colored kitchen he went his refrigerator.

"Do you want some leftover Chinese?" he called to man on his sofa.

He was pretty sure he heard an affirmative noise between the tortured screams of some teenybopper. He fixed them both a plate of vegetables and deep fried chicken smothered in some sauce that completely negated the nutritional value of the veggies. He was pretty sure calling it Chinese food was an insult to 1.3 billion people. He didn't have any soda or beer and he was all out of wine, so poured them each a glass of water. Using the serving tray his mother had brought him 'just in case' he ever had company he managed to get it all into the living room. Nathan wordlessly adjusted his position on the sofa. Charles sat down next to him and handed him a plate and a glass. They both dug in and watched the movie.

After a few minutes, however Charles realized Nathan was just eating around his vegetables.

"Nathan! Eat your vegetables." he admonished. Dear god he sounded just like his mother.

"Na uh, veggies aren't brutal." If Charles sounded like his mother than Nathan sounded like a petulant ten year old.

"Vegetables kill people. Did you know that more people die each year from vegetable than any other source of food poisoning?"

Nathan seemed to consider this and nibbled on a stalk of broccoli. It seemed to pass the test and he soon finished his plate.

After the movie had ended and everyone but the half naked blond and the chainsaw welding hero had died, Charles cleaned up the plates and announced he was going to sleep.

"If you're going to keep watching TV, please keep the sound low."

"That's cool, most of this shit is just as interesting with the sound off."

"You don't have to mute it, just keep the volume down."

Nathan simply waved goodnight and switched the now muted TV to the home shopping network.

As Charles got ready for bed he was left to wonder the strange twists of fate that had left him with such an unusual houseguest.


	6. Chapter 5

Part five

It was no surprise the next morning when Charles found Nathan still asleep on the couch. Charles had never quite shaken his school time habit of waking up at the ass-crack of dawn. At first he tried to go about fixing breakfast quietly, but after one of his bowls made a spectacular crash he realized he needn't have bothered. Death was dead to the world. After fixing himself a bowl of sensible cereal with fruit he sat down at his kitchen table to read the newspaper. As the sun climbed higher in the window and Charles had just about finished his morning paper, Death showed signs of life.

Groggily he murmured something that could have been a morning greeting or the blackest of threats. Grabbing one of the plastic bags full of clothing he pressed it to his face to block out the light.

Charles was instantly reminded of that oft repeated parental advice about children and plastic bags.

"Nathan, don't smother yourself with the plastic bag!"

"Too bright," was the groggy reply from behind the unmoved bag. So Charles got up and closed the blinds, dimming the light somewhat. The lump on the sofa made another one of those indecipherable noises and shifted a little. If Nathan did wind up suffocating, at least he could say he tried. Charles cleared his breakfast things and walk quietly into his home office.

Around one o'clock Charles heard the distinct beeping of his microwave in distress. Running to it's rescue, it gave one last shrill beep before giving up the ghost.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

Nathan was jabbing at the buttons, trying to bring the machine back to life.

"I was trying to make breakfast," he growled, still poking frantically at the corpse on the counter. Charles reached over to stop Nathan's hands and save what was left of his microwave's dignity.

"But why is the coffee machine inside the microwave?"

"Well how else was I going to heat up the coffee?"

In a twisted way it almost made sense. But that didn't bring his microwave back from the dead.

"Just go sit down and I'll make you something."

Nathan did as he was told. Charles rescued the coffee maker from the microwave. It was none the worse for the indignities it had just suffered so Charles plugged it back in. He fixed Nathan a bowl of his sensible cereal but left off the fruit. Half a cup of sugar later, breakfast was demeaned suitable.

After "breakfast" Charles went back into his room to keep studying and Nathan went back to his broken TV. Sometime after dark Charles found that his office had been invaded.

"Come on, we're going out."

Charles let himself be dragged out of his office.

"Out where?"

"A place."

Why not? He couldn't study all day. Heck without classes or the bar he wasn't even sure why he was studying in the first place. So he went along with it and found himself in a seedy little club called The Scuzz. It was in that part of the city that the news warned you not to walk through at night. It wasn't even terribly wise to walk through during the day. But his companion's shear size was enough to deter would be assailants, so he felt relatively safe. The building looked like it should have been condemned. He found out later that it actually was, it just hadn't stuck. Walking into the club the first thing he noticed was the pervasive smell of cheap booze and bad blood. The cheap wooden electrical spool tables were stained and broken. The chairs were held together with hope and duck tape. Despite the dinginess of the club, it was packed. The patrons were predominately drunk and they all looked like the sort of people you wouldn't want to meet alone in a dark alley. Charles felt incredibly out of place with his nice button down shirt and sensible hair cut.

Ignorant of his companion's discomfort Nathan lead them to an empty table in the back of the club, situated behind a pillar. Carved into the unfinished wood of the table's surface was the ominous word "KILLER". Charles could swear there was dried blood in the etching, accentuating the letters. He did his best to touch nothing. An aged blond in a faded denim jacket came by to take their order, never once removing the lit cigarette from her mouth. Nathan, familiar with the club ordered something called an "Octo". At first Charles respectfully declined, fearing for his intestinal fortitude, but after some wheedling from Nathan he conceded to a gin and tonic.

"So, do you come here often?" Charles asked after their waitress had left.

"All the time. I love this place. It's so fucking classy." Charles wasn't sure what classy might mean in this context but it certainly wasn't being used in any way he was familiar with. Nathan continued, "Some day Dethklok is gonna play here."

"Dethklok?" Charles was genuinely confused.

"That's the name of the band. The one that you're manager of." Dude you should know this. That last bit wasn't spoken out loud but it was heavily implied.

"Well I'm sorry but I didn't know. How long has the band been Dethklok?"

"Since forever."

Right then the waitress returned with their drinks. As it turned out the "Octo" was eight separate pints of beer meant to be drunken in quick succession. Charles' gin and tonic held no surprises and for that he was thankful. While Charles carefully sipped away at his drink, Nathan was already on his third pint.

"Don't you ever worry about your liver?"

Nathan made a noncommittal noise as he finished off the pint. "When I'm a big famous rock star I can just buy a new one."

Charles was really not happy with that response and reminded him, "You're not famous yet, so maybe go easy on your liver for now." Nathan said nothing but took a little more time with the next pint.

About then the lights dimmed. Not that it was really noticeable, it was pretty dark to begin with. The stage lights came on and a group of scruffy misfits took their places at the instruments. The largest of all of them took the microphone and walked towards the audience.

Shouting, despite the amplification of the speakers, he announced "This here is Outer Nimrod and we're about to make some noise. Anybody wanna make something of it?"

It seemed like he was waiting for someone to fight him over it. When nothing happened he looked a little disappointed. "Alright let's fucking do this!"

Charles was physically assaulted by the sudden noise. He had to grab on to the filthy table to keep from toppling over in his duck taped chair. The noise was reminiscent of what the boys had played back at Nathan's apartment when they broke the floor. But these guys had real instruments and amplifiers. After the initial shock wore off he was able to listen more objectively. They were good but they don't have the raw potential of Dethklok. Charles is sure that they've never made a floor collapse with shear intensity. The singer employed the same lyrical shouting as Nathan but he lacked that gravely otherworldly quality that initially inspired the nickname Death. The guy on the guitar was good. He's not as fast as Skwisgaar but he's just as capable. They also had a fuller band and Charles thinks that Nathan will have to find a few more players.

As the band segways into the next song a fight breaks out near the stage. One large mountain of a man clocks another mountain in the jaw for no apparent reason. Before long the neighboring tables join in and there is a full scale brawl going on. The band plays on as if world war three had not just broken out around them.

Nathan finished his last pint and hurled the empty glass at a particularly scruffy man moving menacingly in their direction. The location of the table kept them out of the worst of it but when two burly people of indeterminate gender bump into their table and spill Charles' half full drink, Nathan breaks a chair over them.

The band on stage was shouting something that sounded like a farewell but it was impossible to hear over the din. Nathan grabbed Charles and drug him down a dark corridor. Charles tried to ask where they were going but it was impossible to be heard over the sound of the brawl. It turned out to be another exit. Even outside with the door closed Charles can still hear the battle raging on inside. Nathan let go of his hand and Charles briefly regrets the loss of contact until he remembers that he feels absolutely nothing for the other man.

On the way back Nathan asks him what he thinks.

"Well, they were good but I'm sure Dethklok will be better."

That makes Nathan smile a little.

"Outer nimrod is pretty brutal. They always have the best riots"

"You mean, it's always like that?" Charles asked aghast. He couldn't imagine how that building was still standing if riots like those were a regular occurrence.

"Na, that was pretty tame. I'm normally in there busting skulls but I figured I should stick close. It can be pretty brutal for a little guy like you."

Charles finds himself offended at the notion that he needs protecting like some damsel in distress. "I'll have you know, I was Harvard fencing champion and I have a black belt in karate."

Nathan looked at his comparatively little manager with a new found respect.

"Good," he growled. "Next time we can both join in."

Charles paled at the thought and regretted his sudden outburst all the way home.


	7. Side Story Two

Side two

AN: A side story to "Or Perhaps the Decree of Fate" set between parts five and six.

--

It was actually all part of an evil plan. Nathan had noticed earlier that a tired Charles was a Charles who forgot about personal space. So when some movie channel had an all night MST3K marathon he'd run with it.

"You work too hard." Nathan had said over take out.

Charles didn't even acknowledge him, he was too busy looking over some paper work.

"You're like a robot." That got his attention. Nathan would have smirked, but that would have given away the whole game.

"I am not a robot." Charles said quite firmly as he put aside his paper work. He then snagged a piece of sizzling shrimp out of Nathan's take out carton with chopsticks and ate it as if to prove a point. Nathan was briefly distracted by the expert way those hands handled the chopsticks.

Remember the plan Nathan.

"I don know," Nathan stabbed a piece of chicken less expertly with a fork from Charles' dish. "You work all the time. Just like a robot."

"I'm not that bad! I can be fun some times."

Nathan shrugged noncommittally and pretended to change the topic. "So there's this marathon on TV tonight. It's going to be fun, but I guess a robot like you wouldn't understand."

Charles got that pissy look that Nathan has come to find adorable. "I just so happen to love movie marathons!"

Now Nathan did let a bit of his smirk through. "I bet you couldn't last one movie."

"You're on!"

By the fourth movie Charles had fallen asleep and Nathan can't help but enjoy the way Charles buried his face into Nathan's side as a bright light exploded on screen. Nathan muted the TV so as not to wake Charles and hey, he's seen this one before any way. Being careful not to disturb Charles, Nathan brought one big hand down to pet the sleeping man's hair.


	8. Chapter 6

Warning(s): death and suicide. But don't worry, it's no one you know.

Part six

It was Thursday. Nathan had been living with him for almost a week. Despite his earlier apprehensions, Nathan was a good house guest. Sure he was lazy and messy but he was never purposefully inconsiderate of Charles. He kept the volume down low on the TV when Charles was sleeping or working. He never messed with Charles' stuff in the office when he came in to use the computer. He'd started picking up take out for dinner when Charles came home from work. And really, it was just nice to not come home to an empty apartment anymore. He went from long boring evenings alone with law reviews to late night movies with Nathan. Nathan was never really up but he always grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'have a good day' when he left for work in the morning. It was nice.

But there were other moments when he just couldn't wait for Nathan to find his own place and move out. Moments like running into a half naked Death getting ready to take a shower when he should have still been asleep. Or the time Nathan had talked him in to a late night movie marathon and he'd fallen asleep only wake up snuggled on the couch.

It was getting harder and harder to remember that he felt absolutely nothing for the charismatic Specter of death. Nathan needed to move out soon for the sake of his continued sanity.

Charles had always had bad luck but no where was it more apparent than in his love life. His first girlfriend, who was really more of a best friend who became a de facto girlfriend when no one would believe they weren't dating, killed herself. One minute they'd been talking then from out of nowhere she pulled a box cutter and sliced down her arm. At first he's been too shocked to move but then he had screamed for an ambulance and tried to stop the bleeding but it was too late. By the next day she had been dead. There was never any explanation. He still didn't know why she'd done it and why in front of him.

Then he'd gone off to college where for the first time ever he had the freedom to admit he was gay. He met a guy and they hit it off but a few weeks later he found him in the hall closet with his mother. In Mrs. Offdensen defense she hadn't know that the handsome co-ed coming on to her was her son's boyfriend.

The next guy he was more careful about and waited till they'd gotten to know each other better. But then one day he gets a message after class and shows up just in time to watch him expire from a drug overdose.

Charles swears off romance for a few years but the first year of law school he meets a guy who must have been related to prince charming. So Charles gives love one last chance. Things are great for a few months and Charles thinks he's found the person he's going to spend the rest of his life with. Then one day his boyfriend is running late and Charles gets a call from the hospital. He's been hit by a bus and in a coma. Charles experiences a hellish few months of waiting before the plug is finally pulled. After that Charles swears off love for good and has been true to his word till Nathan showed up. Now he just wants Nathan to go away so he can go back to dying cold, miserable, and alone, the way god intended it. It was hard to keep people at arm's length when they where always hanging around.

---

Since Nathan's apartment is out and Charles fears for the structural integrity of his own, the band has had to find another place to practice. Pickles comes through for them.

Pickles has been living at the rehab center for years, ever since his first band broke up. The head physician is an old school Snakes and Barrels fan. He's been letting Pickles live at the rehab center free of charge. Pickles has further endeared himself to the staff and is now something of a mascot for the clinic. So when they found out his band needed a place to practice they offered up the center's garage. Charles still hasn't heard them play (with real instruments, that first time doesn't count) but tonight will be their first show. Another rehab clinic is having a charity concert and Pickle's doctor friend convinced them to let Dethklok play. Maybe he should be Dethklok's manager, Charles has been feeling pretty useless.

Charles wants everything to go well. Nathan never complains about a lack of funds but as far as Charles can tell he's broke. If this goes well Charles will be one step closer to living alone again.

The concert is in the park. There are four other bands playing and a huge turn out. Dethklok is the second to last to play, right before Dorchester Melon. Charles has never heard of them, but they are supposedly quite popular.

They were all back stage waiting their turn. Skwisgaar was ignoring everyone in favor of practicing his guitar. He really was amazingly fast. Nathan seemed pale even with the corps make up and hadn't said a word since sitting down. Pickle seemed just fine. He was happy and ebullient, chattering away. He was telling a surprisingly interesting story from his glam rock days when Charles noticed that something was off.

"Pickles, are you high?" he hissed, trying to keep his voice low.

Pickles looked at him like he'd suddenly lost his marbles. "Well, do'hy, Chief."

Charles was suddenly frantic. "But what if people see you. And dear god, drug tests! You live in a rehab center, what if they find out?!" Charles does not want another homeless musician on his hands. He just doesn't have the extra room.

"Dude chillax, the rehab guys know and it's cool so long as I don't share. With the patients. Any one else is cool."

It was like slipping down the rabbit hole and Charles feared he wasn't even close to the bottom.

"You live in a rehab center and do drugs and nobody minds?!"

"Yeah." Pickles didn't seem to get why this was so hard for Charles to comprehend.

"Doesn't that defeat the purpose of rehab?"

"Nah man, rehab is great! They got me off all the death shit right after Snakes and Barrels. Now I just do happy drugs."

One of the stage hands came by just then for their three minute warning. This seemed to bring Death back to life. He stood up and rallied the troops, so to speak.

"Alright guys, let's go out there and rock so hard the stage explodes. Remember, be brutal!"

Outside the audience roared, signaling the end of the act. Dethklok took their places and back stage Charles started praying.

After the first song he relaxed a little. The audience seemed to like them and even Charles had to admit they sound pretty good. It was hard to believe the band hadn't even existed last week. They sounded like they'd been playing together for a lifetime.

Around the second song Charles sensed something was wrong. There was a strange smell like burnt pop corn. He looked around for the source of the smell when suddenly flames shot out at him. Some how the curtain surrounding the stage had caught on fire. Charles tried to keep his cool. Losing his head wouldn't do anyone any good. He went in search of a stage hand, a fire alarm, a glass of water. Anything.

Okay so maybe he wasn't doing a great job keeping his cool, but he was trying. It didn't matter. The curtain was cheap and within seconds completely ablaze. People back stage were running for their lives but to the audience it looked intentional and awesome. Nathan was even singing about the fiery blazes of hell.

At least, Charles was pretty sure that was what he was saying. After a week of living with the man, Charles liked to think he'd gotten a bit better at deciphering his words. Dethklok played on and by the time they were done with their last song the fire department had the blaze under control. The audience went absolutely crazy. They were cheering so loud the fire chief needed a bull horn to inform them the concert was now over. The headlining band never got a chance to play, but nobody cared.

In a fit of optimism, Charles had printed business cards declaring himself Dethklok's manager. He was completely out before he could even make it back to where the band stood after the fire department left. It seemed there were quite a few music lovers in the audience who were happy to book Dethklok even if they did set the stage on fire.


	9. Chapter 7

Part seven

After the concert the band had gone out for drinks to celebrate. Charles had respectfully declined, after all some people had work in the morning. Despite the band's pleadings (well, mostly Nathan and a little Pickles, Skwisgaar was pretty disinterested) Charles just refused to show up sloppy for work. He didn't care how much luck Nathan had brought him, he just wasn't going to risk it.

That was how Charles found himself blissfully alone in his own apartment. If he was very still he could hear the gentle hum of the refrigerator. He'd taken a few business cards from venue owners and proprietors after the show. The first thing he did upon arriving at home was to organize the business cards and make notes on the contacts he had made. He may not know anything about music but organizing was second nature to him. He put a special star next to two of the names that had seemed particularly serious about having Dethklok play at their venue. Charles did a quick internet search to be sure they were who they said they were and then committed those names to memory. It never hurt to know your opponent by name.

By the time he was done it was just passed eleven. Nathan would probably be home soon. He picked up a massive tome that Nathan had been using to elevate the TV. Charles would just brush up on some constitutional law till Nathan got back. He wasn't lonely mind you, he just wanted to be sure Nathan got in safe.

Some how the intricacies of state versus federal import regulations just didn't hold his attention the way it usually did. He'd read the same paragraph over and over and he still had no idea what it said. If only the refrigerator would stop humming so loudly. It was impossible to concentrate with all that racket.

Charles looked up from his text book to glare fiery death at the ice box. After a minute or so it quieted.

That was better, Charles could concentrate again. He picked the book back up. He read through the entire case, the history, the majority opinion and the minority one. It was all just so fascinating, Charles thought that surely time must have flown by. He looked up at the clock. Less than ten minutes had passed. They just don't write supreme court rulings like they used too.

Charles returned the book to it's rightful place under the TV. He took off his glasses and tried to rest his eyes. He took a few deep breaths and began to relax.

Some where on the street a car backfired. Charles' eyes shot open and he lost his sense of inner peace.

As a last resort he flipped on Nathan's broken old television and found some re-run of a black and white TV show. Charles got comfortable and let the mind numbing powers of television wash over him.

---

"SHIT"

Charles awoke with a jerk. The TV, displaying a twenty-four hour news network on mute, was the only light in the room. Across the living room Charles could see Nathan trying to grab his stubbed toe without toppling over.

"shitshitshitshit"

Nathan grabbed the counter to keep from falling over but his hand landed on pile of paper work from Charles' firm's latest case. Nathan managed to keep his balance but paper work went flying everywhere.

"What are you doing coming home at" he paused to glance at the TV. "four thirty in the morning?!? Do you know how worried I was?!"

Nathan laughed for no real reason other than he could. Even from the other side of the room Charles could smell the alcohol. There really was no point in scolding him, he wouldn't remember in the morning anyway. With a practiced easy that came from years as a designated driver, Charles got up and directed Nathan to the sofa.

"Dude, Octo bombs and then you light them on fire. BOOM!" Charles hoped that none of his neighbors would complain about the shouting the next morning. "and then this cat RAWR!" Nathan made a descriptive hand motion that left Charles even more confused.

He settled Nathan down on the sofa. Luckily, Nathan still seemed to have enough sense to take off his own shoes. Thank god, Charles didn't fancy trying to wrestle the massive grubby boots off by himself.

While Nathan was busy remembering which way to pull to get his shoes off Charles went to fetch a glass of water. Once the epic struggle had subsided and Nathan was now freed of the steel toed beasts, Charles handed over the glass.

"Drink."

Nathan took the glass and complied. He downed the whole thing in one polished move that spoke of years of practice chugging beer. When he was finished he gave a loud belch and handed the glass back.

With a superficial calm, Charles walked back into the kitchen and refilled the glass.

He sat the glass and himself down on the coffee table across from Nathan.

"Do you have any idea how worried I was? I thought you were injured or worse." his voice cracked a little on the last word betraying his true concern. So much for keeping his distance.

"Aw, don't worry Charlie," Nathan slurred as he pulled Charles in for a sloppy, smelly hug. "I not dead, I'm invice.... invin.... Unkillable."

He released Charles and started to slid down the sofa. Before he passed out he managed one last whispered reassurance.

"Even if I do die, I'll come back so you can yell at me..."

Then he started to snore. Charles couldn't believe it but he was actually reassured. If anyone had a chance of beating death it was Nathan. When the grim reaper came he would probably be too confused by the similarities to do his job properly. Charles grabbed the aspirin bottle and left it near the full glass of water. He turned off the TV and made sure the curtains were shut tight before whispering good night to the slumbering lump on his sofa.

---

Charles had only managed two good hours of sleep. Looking at himself in the mirror he looked about as bad as he would have if he'd gone out drinking in the first place. Still he smoothed out his hair and tried to splash the life back into his cheeks with cold water.

That was as good as it was going to get. Charles didn't have time to make breakfast and anyway he didn't want to risk waking Nathan up. He walked across the living room and opened the front door as quietly as possible. Today there was no groggy 'g'day' only a jarring snore to see him out the door.

He arrived at the office looking haggard with a large coffee and a muffin he would normally have scoffed at for lack of nutritional value.

The whole office seemed to be having an impromptu meeting around his desk.

One of the other clerks was making an impassioned speech to the boss.

"See, even Charles is looking overworked! You've just got to do something!"

"Right!" agreed the rest of the office lackeys.

"Right?" agreed Charles not wanting to feel left out.

"Okay, okay, I see your point," agreed the boss making placating hand gestures. "I can tell from looking at Offdensen that I have been working you guys too hard. You can all have the afternoon off today and starting next week we'll have flex time."

There was a cheer from the crowd and many of Charles' coworkers reached out to give him a congratulatory pat on the back. He had no idea what he'd done but there would be time enough to figure it out later. After he'd finished his coffee.


	10. Chapter 8

Part eight

After lunch Charles was practically human again. Some how his disheveled state this morning had lead to the afternoon off, which was always a good thing. Charles supposed he had Death to thank yet again. Yes, that was why he kept Death around, not for the companionship or random burst of affection but for the good luck. Just keep telling yourself that Charlie.

The subway ride back home was relaxing. It was such a change from rush hour. Charles even got to help a nice young mother of two figure out the subway map.

Charles was feeling good about life. He even stopped by the corner deli to pick up lunch for the both of them.

Before he opened the apartment door he could tell Nathan was up. There was music coming from somewhere. It wasn't quite in the vein of Dethklok, but it was close.

Charles walked in a put lunch down on the counter. The music seemed to be coming from his office and he went to investigate.

He found Nathan head banging away, playing some in browser game. Surprisingly he was wearing head phones.

Nathan noticed Charles' presences and took off his headphones. It didn't matter, you could hear the music crystal clear even with them off.

"Hey, you're home early. I found this great explodey block game online." Charles watched as colored blocks exploded on screen.

Before Nathan, Charles had owned exactly two CDs. One collection of baroque music to study by and one opera compilation from his mother, gifted to him upon finding out he was gay. All gay men liked operas. Charles was gay. There for he liked opera. Charles supposed he should be thankful that she'd known him well enough not to go with the more prevalent stereotype of Broadway musicals.

"I didn't know you'd brought any CDs with you." Charles commented.

Nathan looked confused. "CDs?"

"The music? I know you didn't find it on my computer."

"Oh" comprehension dawned. "I just downloaded it. I'm torrenting the latest album by Spoon Rest right now. Your internet is fast."

Charles went through various stages of shock and outrage.

"You're... You're using my computer to illegally download music?! That's stealing! You could go to jail! I could go to jail!"

Nathan didn't quite get why Charles was so upset. "Dude relax, no one ever gets caught."

"Nobody ever gets caught?!" Charles was practically screaming, Nathan had never seen him this angry. "I sent out three hundred subpoenas today alone for downloading music. If I had it my way copyright violators would be taken out back and shot. You're a musician, you should understand."

Nathan tried to calm Charles down. "Okay, I'll kill the torrent, relax!"

It had been a long time since Charles had yelled like that. He could feel the blood pumping. It felt kind of good, more alive. He took a few more calming breaths.

"Thanks to you I can never join the CIA. They check for these sorts of things you know."

"You wanted to be a spy?"

Charles looked a little embarrassed. "Not exactly, but it was nice to know it was an option."

Nathan started deleting his music folder. "Sorry, I didn't know."

Charles felt a little guilty at having over reacted. "It's okay Nathan. You can keep the stuff you already downloaded. The damage has already been done. Just, don't do it again. Now come on out to the living room, I got us lunch."

During lunch Charles received a frantic phone call. One of the business cards he hadn't stared had had a cancellation. Would Dethklok be willing to play on such short notice?

Nathan, who was listening over Charles' shoulder was nodding his head frantically. Yes! Yes Dethklok could play on such short notice.

The details were set. They weren't being paid much but the last show they hadn't been paid at all so it was an improvement. They would do two shows, one at the start of the evening and one a few hours later.

Before Charles could even hang up the phone Nathan was shouting with glee.

After a few phone calls to the rest of the band from Nathan(and a few threats from Charles on what would happen to them if they showed up late) there was hardly time to get ready. Nathan tore through his garbage bags full of clothing looking for the exact right black t-shirt. Charles took the time to print out a few more business cards, just in case.

They were both out the door with less than a minute to spare and running to make it to the subway on time.

While this new club was grungy, it was nowhere near as bad as The Scuzz. Charles didn't fear for his life just being there. It was also far less crowded than The Scuzz. There were only a hand full of people and they all seemed pretty disinterested in the activities on stage.

Charles was gratified to see that Pickles was already there. His doctor friend had come along and was helping Pickles set up.

While they had talked on the phone, it was Charles' first time meeting Doctor Miller in person. He was a little older than Charles and under the lab coat he was still wearing, was a faded Snakes and Barrels t-shirt. He recognized Charles immediately and went over to shake his hand.

"You must be Charles. It's a pleasure to meet you. Pickles has told me a lot about you."

On stage Nathan and Pickles were rehashing a few choice moments from last night's drinking binge and figuring out what to play. While the boys were otherwise engaged Doctor Miller took Charles over to the side.

"Honestly, I'm thrilled you started up this band. It's good to see Pickles playing again. You've done him a great service. I won't always be around to take care of him so it's nice to know you'll always be looking out for the band. Thank you. Thank you so much."

Charles didn't know where to begin but he was saved having to respond by Nathan calling him over to work out the lighting. Charles didn't know a thing about stage lights but he was eager to learn if it meant getting away from the creepy doctor.

The guy seemed to be under the mistaken impression that Charles was the white knight of death metal. Charles was just some guy who didn't have the common sense to object when Death came looking for him.

As the time grew near and Skwisgaar still hadn't shown up, Charles spent a few frantic minutes with a pay phone trying to reach him. Then at seven o'clock on the dot on the blond guitar god strode in nonchalantly with his guitar strapped to his back. There wasn't time to properly express his ire at the Swede, but Charles got in a few choice words anyway.

The lights went down and Charles and the doctor sat at the bar to listen. The volume made small talk impractical and Charles had never been more thankful that Dethklok favored loud. There was something unsettling about the way the doctor was looking at Pickles and Charles just didn't want to talk about it.

They played on for the set amount of time and nothing went wrong. Charles had half expected the roof to cave in. But it was fine. The crowd applauded and it was all sort of anticlimactic.

They had an hour before the next show and the whole gang sat at a table. The proprietor seemed pleased with their performance so far and provided free beers all around. Charles made certain to pace the rounds and kept anyone from getting too drunk.

Pickles and his doctor friend kept the conversation going. It seemed they were both encyclopedias of rock star hijinx. Skwisgaar was pretty disinterest in every thing but occasionally put in his two cents when directly confronted. All in all it was an enjoyable break. Charles had even started to relax until right before the next show.

The other patrons at the bar had shown very little interest in their little group, but right before it was time to go on Charles noticed this pudgy little man with brillo hair skulking suspiciously close. He had on a tattered vest and had some large oddly shaped long necked thing at his side. After having escaped disaster the first show were they all to be tragically gunned down by the ugly mafia before the second show could even start?

But the man made no sudden moves to gun them down. He stayed sulking in the shadows till Dethklok took the stage again.

As the band took their places and began to play the funny little man picked up the thing that Charles had mistaken for a machine gun. It turned out to be a bass guitar and he walked right up on stage with the rest of the band and joined in.

Charles had no idea who he was but the rest of the band didn't seem to mind. Charles was again surprised that without any noticeable cues they all seemed to know what to play. As far as Charles knew the song they were playing was written by Nathan. Yet some how the funny little man played right along like he belonged.

Charles had to admit they sounded better with the new addition. The crowed seemed to be getting more into it this time. As they neared the closing number a small fight broke out near the stage, but after the all out war at The Scuzz it didn't concern Charles in the least.

Because no Dethklok performance was complete with out an inexplicable occurrence, as the band took it's final bow the sprinkler came on. In the grand scale of Dethklok destruction making people a little wet was hardly even worth mentioning.


	11. Chapter 9

Part Nine

The mystery bassist turned out to be named Murderface. If Charles had not already met a Pickles and an Explosion he would have thought for sure it was a fake name. Murderface sat down with the band after the show and joined right in the conversation. Charles found it odd that he is the only one who questions his sudden appearance. Well, he had been thinking that the band needed a few more players.

The conversation was easier this time. Even Skwisgaar put aside his guitar and joined in. They were having some involved hypothetical discussion on burning buildings and naked models. Charles wasn't really listening, he was just enjoying a rare sense of accomplishment.

The club's owner came by with their pay. At first Charles was concerned with how he will handle Murderface's cut but the owner has been nice enough to include extra for the sudden addition to the band. Charles made a mental note to add a smiley face next to his name.

The drinks were flowing and Charles thinks they will never stop but the bar closed at two and the party broke up. Skwisgaar had found some bar skank to go home with. From the bedraggled look of her Charles thinks Skwisgaar is in for a nasty surprise when he wakes up sober. Pickles had his doctor friend to get him home safe, so Charles didn't worry. Murderface lived close by. Charles made sure to take down his contact info before he leaves. That just left Nathan, and Charles can personally assure himself that Nathan will arrive home safely.

On the way home Nathan recapped the show for Charles as if he hadn't been there.

"And then Skwisgaar did this thing on his guitar and Murderface joined in. It was so fucking metal! We rocked!"

Charles thought to himself that Nathan was less drunk than last night. He was certainly making more sense and he reeked less. Well good, his liver could probably use the break.

"You boys sounded good. Where did you meet Murderface?"

Nathan looked at him like he was an idiot. "Dude, you where there."

Charles questioned the wisdom of letting anyone who walked on stage join the band.

Nathan just shrugged. "What, it worked. We needed bass and we got it. Murderface says he knows the neatest trick, I can't wait to see it!"

Nathan went back to chattering away. Charles made a mental note to run a full background check later.

When they got to Charles' apartment Charles had to fumble for a minute

to get the door open. In that time Nathan had pressed himself close. Charles' back was practically touching Nathan's chest.

Charles felt like he couldn't escape fast enough. When he final got the door open, he put as much space as possible between himself and Nathan.

Charles walked into the kitchen and fixed himself a glass of water. Unfortunately, Nathan followed him. He put one big hand on either side of the counter, effectively trapping Charles. From this distance Charles could smell the alcohol. Nathan must have been drunker than Charles had first thought. Charles took a sip of his water and held the glass between them defensively. This kept Nathan from pressing too close but Charles was still trapped.

Nathan leaned down closer till their noses were practically touching. "You were pretty brutal today."

Charles tried to lean back to regain some of his personal space, but it wasn't working.

"Not really."

"No, you were totally brutal. The way you yelled at Skwisgaar to be on time. Keeping all of us from getting too drunk to play. You're a really brutal guy."

Charles wanted to object and point out he is actually the least brutal person on the planet. He's mousey and incompetent. He was wasting away at a job he was overqualified for because he couldn't stand up for himself. Before Nathan he would have been home alone on a Friday night, studying. Not exactly brutal behavior. He wouldn't be pressed uncomfortably into the counter top if he was half as brutal as Nathan seemed to think.

Nathan kept starring intently at him. For a moment Charles thinks that Death is about to kiss him. Nathan was leaning in closer and closer and Charles was terrified. Charles made a frightened unintentional noise. Shit, he hooped Nathan didn't hear that. Charles F. Offdensen does not whimper, at least not where anybody might over hear him.

Death backed off a little and fixed his hair like he hadn't just been pressing Charles into the counter top. He mumbled something vaguely coherent about it having been a long day.

Charles drained his glass of water and tried to regain some semblance of normalcy. He rinsed the glass and left it to dry. He walked down the hall, avoiding Nathan's eyes.

Nathan was still starring at him. Charles feared what he would see should he look. Would it be a hazy drunken confusion? A wistful look for an opportunity lost? Whatever it was, Charles didn't want to know.

Nathan's eyes follow him all the way down the hallway. Before closing the door and shutting out Nathan, Charles turned around for one last comment. Still looking anywhere but him, Charles said, "I think you were pretty brutal too. Goodnight."


	12. Chapter 10

AN: In case you were wondering attack jelly is a bit like a pet rock.

Part Ten

Charles was not in the habit of sleeping in. But when the sun had shone through his curtains he had just rolled over and gone back to sleep. Something about last night had left him weary to the core.

Back in college he'd been shadow president of the debate club one year. He'd single handedly organized a public debate in under twenty four hours. That had been far more work than over seeing three, no wait, now it's four future rock stars and a show they wanted to play. And yet Charles felt that wild horse couldn't drag him from his bed.

The next time he awoke, the sun was past it's zenith. It must have been afternoon. Nathan had to be up by now but Charles couldn't hear any tell tale sounds of activity.

He arose cautiously. After a quick trip to the restroom, he checked the living room for signs of Nathan. The lumbering giant seemed to have left he building.

On the counter top stood a paper bag and a note. Charles picked up the note first.

It was written in Nathan's characteristic block print. The note is entirely capital letters, lower case letters are for sissies.

YOU WERE STILL SLEEPING AND I WAS HUNGERY SO I GOT DONUTS. I GOT TWO PURPLE FILLED ONES FOR YOU. PURPLE IS A FRUIT, RIGHT? GONE OUT, HOPE YOU ARE OKAY. BACK SOON.

The note made Charles smile. It really shouldn't, but it does anyway. He checked the bag and found two grape filled powered donuts. Normally he would balk at something with so much transfat and zero fiber but today he just kept smiling.

Charles fixed himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table where the newspaper was already waiting for him. After finishing the donuts Charles rounded off his wholly improper breakfast by licking his fingers. It's not like anyone can see him sitting in his kitchen still in pajama at two o'clock in afternoon licking powered sugar off his fingers.

Once he was sure he had gotten the last of the sticky stuff off his fingers he got up. He surveyed the mess in the sink where Nathan had left his breakfast things. Screw it. Charles had done such a good job of being lazy so far, why ruin it. He refilled his coffee and added twice as much cream and sugar as he normally would. Then he took the paper and went back to his room.

Charles was finishing up the paper when he heard Nathan come in. There was some shuffling from the living room and possibly the sound of a stubbed toe. Before long the heavy footsteps lead to Charles' door and Nathan came right in without knocking.

For a moment Charles thought he saw relief pass over Death's face.

"Oh, good, you're up. I left you donuts."

Charles smiled again as he recalled the note.

"Yes, I found them. They were delicious, thank you."

"I didn't know if you'd like them but the guy told me they had fruit in them. You like fruit."

"Jellied filled is fine, but for further reference, I like cinnamon rolls best."

It was Nathan's turn to smile. Charles felt a sudden chill at how utterly domestic it is to be discussing donuts in his bedroom while he is sitting in bed in pajamas. He sudden wished he'd been motivated enough to get dressed.

Charles coughed to break the mood. "Did you come in here for something?"

It took Nathan a moment to catch the shift in conversation. Charles noticed that he had been hiding something behind his back.

"I uh, got you something."

Nathan pulled out a plain white cardboard box. It was a little bigger than those travel size cereal boxes. Charles sat up a little straighter in bed and again regretted being lazy. He took the box from Nathan who had sat down next to him.

"What is it?" Charles opened the box hoping to answer his own question but it doesn't help. Inside there is a bite-size unlabeled jar of red jam, a bit of leather, a scrap of newspaper and a booklet.

"There was this kid in a tuxedo," Nathan explained. "He called it attack jelly. It's supposed to be for protection. And it's like friendly or something."

Charles paled as he leafed through the instruction manual. "You didn't actually pay money for this did you?"

"I thought you'd like it."

Was Nathan pouting? Charles put aside his own feelings about the thing and thanked Nathan. What else could he do? It was, after all, Nathan's money.


	13. Chapter 11

Part Eleven

Charles has had a long day at work. His hard work was finally being recognized, but that just meant people expected more of him. Charles can not wait for the results of the bar to come in so he can quit this job. But that is still a few months off.

The elevator was on the fritz again, so Charles walked the eight flights up to his apartment. He swears if he ever designs a building it will have millions of extra elevators. Walking up the stairs he had time to think.

God, he hoped Nathan got take out from that Thai place. Then maybe they could relax and watch a movie. Charles would forget about the horrors of romance for one moment and move just a little closer to Nathan and all would be right with the universe.

At long last he reached his door and turned the handle.

"Dude, eating sausage is gay"

Charles stopped dead in his tracks. He would have recognized that accent anywhere. An equally familiar Midwestern one responded.

"Not when you cut the sausage up and put it on pizza. Then it's just delicious."

What were those voices doing in his apartment? Please, let Nathan be on a speaker phone conference call.

No such luck.

He opened the door to reveal Dethklok sprawled out in his living room. They were all there, even the perpetually aloof Skwisgaar. There were a couple of pizza boxes on Charles' poor abused coffee table.

Charles felt a headache coming on.

Nathan noticed Charles enter.

"Hey! Charles is back!"

From the timber of his voice Charles can tell that they've been drinking but that is a bit like saying they've been breathing.

Charles was just too tired to demand an explanation. He placed his briefcase on the kitchen counter and loosened his tie. Charles' living room is small, with a three person sofa and a large comfy arm chair. All the seats were currently occupied but Nathan gets up to drag over a chair from the dining room.

Charles sat down, still too exhausted to deal with death metalist in his living room. His formally quite, peaceful living room. It was in a state of chaos now. Murderface had his grubby shoes on Charles sleek, glass coffee table. There was pizza grease on his previously spotless beige couch. Beer cans and napkins littered the floor. Charles is not cleaning this up.

Nathan had been staring at Charles expectantly. When Charles just surveys the living room forlornly Nathan continues.

"I asked the pizza dude what was healthiest and he recommend this."

Nathan produced a smaller untouched pizza box. Charles opened the lid to find a small white pizza with veggies and no processed meats. It looks like it has a whole wheat crust. There is far less grease than the meat laden thing everyone else was eating.

Why is it that just when Charles was about ready to throw Nathan out for being an inconsiderate jerk he has to go and do something sweet and considerate?

Charles grabbed a slice and took a tentative bite. It was indeed whole wheat. Charles took another thoughtful bite. It was actually really good. Charles may have to add this place to the take out rotation.

Seeing that no argument was forthcoming the boys went back to their discussion. It seemed to center around what at point eating sausage stopped being gay.

"But what if you like ground up the sausage?"

"Dude, then it's like you're eating ground up dicks. Gay."

"What if you eat the sausage filling before it gets made dick shaped?"

This made Murderface pause and think for a minute. "It's still pretty gay eating something called meatlover's."

Pickles just laughed and took another bite of his meat heavy pizza. After chewing he said, "What, you'd eat it if it were called pussy lovers?"

Skwisgaar's ears perked up at the word pussy. "Ja, theys ams makes it from the kit-cat."

Nathan paled and slammed a fist down on the glass coffee table. That poor abused coffee table. "Not cool. Eating kitties is so not cool."

Charles was finally relaxed enough to join in. "Well Nathan, you didn't seem to have that problem last time we had Szechuan triple delight."

Nathan got even paler and had to stop eating.

Charles, feeling particularly evil, continued. "Why do you think we never see strays hanging out in that alleyway?"

Nathan looked a little bit green but the rest of the gang laughed and the conversation moved on.

Alright so this wasn't the evening Charles was picturing but it would do.


	14. Chapter 12

Part Twelve

A few weeks had past. Dethklok was gaining quite the following. Charles was thinking that it was about time they thought about recording something. They played shows every weekend. They were actually making money. Nathan saw to it that Charles got ten percent as manager and it was starting to add up.

Things were good. So, of course, Charles wasn't the least bit surprised when things went wrong. He was however surprised when those things took the form of a bleary, depressed Pickles knocking on his front door.

Charles and Nathan had been watching the late show when Pickles knocked. It was obvious from the shouting who it was before Charles could even open the door.

Pickles was neither drunk nor high and that scared Charles just a little. After opening the door, Pickles just stormed right in and kept shouting.

Charles had gotten better at deciphering partial conversation since living with Nathan but this was beyond him. The drummer was going a mile a minute and he still hadn't explained anything.

"okay Pickles, calm down and start from the beginning." Charles used his best listen to me I'm a lawyer voice and it seemed to work.

Pickles calmed down and started over.

"They took my drugs, man!"

"Who, Dr. Miller?"

"Nah, Doc would never do that. Some new dildo. They fired Dr. Miller or he quit or something and now he's gone! And this new jack-off took away my drugs and said I had ta start paying him. Paying him to steal my drugs, can you believe the nerve of that dildo!"

"Huh, they ought to start calling him Doctor Dildo."

"I Know, right?"

Charles was trying to grasp what had happened. "Wait, so where is Doctor Miller right now?"

"I dun know, but they said he had to leave the city. He'd been acting kinda weird recently but I thought it was cause I found a new band."

Charles made a mental note to look into the doctor's sudden disappearance. "I still don't see how all this lead to you knocking on my door in the middle on the night."

"Well the new dildo doctor was all like, pay up or leave. So I left."

Charles still didn't quite see how this lead to pickles showing up on his door step be he was starting to get premonitions. Terrifying, horrifying premonitions.

"So, where are you staying?" Charles was almost afraid to ask.

"Dude, here." Pickles made himself just a little bit more comfortable on the sofa.

It was one thing when Nathan had moved in. Nathan had been polite enough to ask first. And secretly Charles had kind of a soft spot for Nathan. Charles found it hard to say no to his own personal Specter of Death.

But Pickles was another story. Charles was willing to admit that he had grown fond of him, as he had the rest of the band but it was the kind of fondness one would have for a brain damaged polar bear. Sure, it could be cute to look at but Charles still didn't want one in the house. He wasn't running a halfway house for homeless musicians.

Charles was about to object and explain about these wonderful inventions called hotels, but then Nathan turn to look at Charles. It was that look, the one he couldn't say no to. The look that had gotten him into this mess in the first place.

"Fine, you can stay!" Charles threw up his hands. The inmates were taking over the asylum. "You two can figure out sleeping arrangements, I'm going to bed." Just because he wasn't objecting didn't mean he was ready to participate. Charles got up and went to his room, leaving the two of them to figure out who got the apartment's only sofa on their own. Charles hoped they both woke up with painful cricks in their necks and impossible bed hair.


	15. Chapter 13

Part Thirteen A

The next day, first thing in the morning, Charles called Doctor Miller. He found the man in the process of moving upstate. He'd gotten an offer from a clinic he couldn't refuse. The pay was better and so was the school system. Charles was actually kind of surprised to hear the man was married, with children.

Further more it turned out that he had tried to explain to Pickles, Pickles had just been too high at the time to really understand. Not a hard situation to imagine.

Next Charles called the rehab center. Charles got Dr. Dildo on the phone. He was in complete agreement with the nickname. Dr. Miller had left instructions that Pickles was to be allowed to stay, but the Dildo wouldn't have it. In his opinion, having a user in a rehab center reflected poorly on that center. Even if the nurses and the staff loved him, he was out. Charles ended up letting lose a few choice words before hanging up. It looked like Pickles would be staying with Charles after all.

Unable to put it off any longer, Charles left his room. The dual sounds of snoring could be heard from the living room. Charles hoped Pickles was as deep a sleeper as Nathan was because Charles needed breakfast.

Walking into the living room, Charles could see that Pickles had won the honor of sleeping on the sofa. Nathan was some how cramped on to the arm chair he was far too big for.

Charles went about fixing breakfast as quietly as possible. Nathan woke up as soon as Charles set the coffee to percolate. Normally Nathan could sleep through an earthquake but the chair must not have been very comfortable.

Blearily, Death looked around. It took a few minutes for Nathan to extract himself from the chair. Charles had the privilege of watching the whole show while he waited for the coffee. Finally, as the coffee had just finished, Nathan stalked into the kitchen. His foot steps were loud enough to wake the dead, but Pickles seemed further along than that.

Charles handed the first cup of coffee to Nathan, figuring he could use it more. He poured himself a second cup and took that first glorious, life affirming sip.

"That chair is like brutal, and not in a good way."

Charles considered this as he took another sip of coffee.

"I was thinking about buying a futon for the spare room anyway. I guess I'll just get on it sooner, rather than later."

They finished their first cup of coffee in silence. Charles decided to cook. He wasn't a very good cook, but his limited repertoire included simple omelets. If there was ever a morning that called for a good breakfast, this was it.

He set Nathan to chopping vegetable, which he turned out to be almost good at. Charles ran around the kitchen gathering eggs and toast and even bacon. By the time Charles was done they had something that passed for breakfast. They also had a small mountain of chopped vegetables. Nathan had been in a groove and Charles hadn't the heart to stop him. The toast was buttered and only a little burnt and the bacon mostly didn't taste like rubber. The omelets were omelets, even Charles couldn't mess that up. Charles reflected that he was a horrible gay man. He didn't like opera, or musicals. He knew next to nothing about fashion or interior design. He couldn't even cook. If it weren't for the vivid dreams of cock, he would swear he was a closet straight.

--

Charles ended up calling in sick that day. It was a rare sort of thing for him to do, but you could almost say that Dethklok were his clients. So by taking care of them he wasn't really blowing off work.

The smell of food woke Pickles up. Charles' little breakfast table wasn't actually equipped for three people, but they made it work. The boys weren't exactly gourmets, so they didn't really notice the rubberiness of the bacon or the black toast. They were both just impressed Charles could cook at all.

Always practical, Charles began explaining the options for living arrangements.

"I was thinking I could get a futon for the office and one of you could sleep there and the other will have to take the sofa."

Pickles pointed out, "You know chief, you've got two bed rooms."

Charles didn't quite see how this was relevant. " Yes I know, but one of them is mine."

Nathan looked uncomfortable, not a look he wore well. Charles could swear there was a scuffle under the table and they both looked guilty all of a sudden.

Charles quirked an eyebrow but decided not to comment. "Anyway, since I've taken the day off, either of you boys want to come with me to pick out the futon?"

Pickles immediately declined but said, "Dude Nathan would totally love to go with you. He just loves furniture shopping, right Nathan?"

The scuffling sounds under the table were back again. Charles was quite sure he was missing something.

This time Nathan seemed to lose the scuffle.

"Uh right, furniture. I think it's cool but not in a fruity way or anything."

Pickles' face-palmed and Charles decided now was an excellent time to go check his mail.

Even in his office he could hear them arguing. He was sure that if it were serious, one of them would come to him. He was their manager after all.

Most of the mail was the usual junk any well established adult gets, but one piece stuck out in particular. It was in an off white envelope which stuck out like a sore thumb against all the plain white business mail. Examining it, Charles could see it was even more of an odd ball. Instead of hand writing, the address was typewritten. With a typewriter. Who the hell used a typewriter in this day and age? There was no return address. The letter was addressed to Charles F. Offdensen CFO.

The CFO had been Nathan's idea. The TV had been stuck on an economics report one day and Nathan had demanded that Charles change his business cards to read CFO after he had learned Charles' middle name.

Charles opened the letter carefully, as if he expected something grim to pop out. Inside he found only a faded photo copy of an old news paper article. Charles examined the photocopy. It was from an archeology paper dated 1912. There was a picture of an old man in front of a pictograph on a ruined wall. Most of the text was illegible but Charles gathered that it was about a newly discovered ruin between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers. It seemed like an odd thing to send some one with no context but Charles filed it away with the rest of the Dethklok crank mail.

For such a new band they received an unholy amount of fan mail, all of it routed through Charles due to the business cards. Charles had already amassed quite the collection of saggy titties, mostly addressed to Skwisgaar. Charles hated to think what the fans would be like when Dethklok became truly famous. Charles would probably need an army of body guards just to keep the band safe. Charles gave a little chuckle at the thought. He could see it now, Nathan would probably insist on dressing them up in executioners costumes or some thing equally ridiculous because it was "brutal".


	16. Side Story Three

Side three (or Gaydar)

AN: a side story to "Or Perhaps the Decree of Fate" set between parts ten and eleven. This was written to explain why pickles was trying to set them up in the main fic which is why instead of finding it between parts ten and eleven where it belongs chronologically you are getting it here after pickles has try to set them up.

--

"So, are you and Dr. Miller, like, doing it. In the butt?"

Pickles sprayed his beer at the sudden question. Pickles and Nathan were just hanging out that afternoon while the rest of the band was elsewhere.

"What?! No dude he's like married and shit."

"Oh" Nathan contemplated this for a few moments while Pickles cleaned up the beer. "Being married doesn't mean he doesn't want to do you. You know. In the butt."

"Dude, quit saying in the butt, it's fucking creepy n' shit, you perv."

Nathan kept pressing the point. "But like dude, he bends all these rules for you and shit. And the way he looks at you is kinda creepy."

Pickles sat back down having sort of cleaned up the mess from Nathans first question.

"Well he's got kinda a man crush on me but don't worry, it's totally bromantic and not at all gay."

They both went back to drinking beer in silence till something triggered a light in Pickles' head.

"What about you and Offdensen? Are you two like doing it, in the butt?"

"What, No!" Nathan was trying to act more outraged than he really was. "Any way Charles isn't, like, gay."

Pickles cocked an eyebrow at that. "I wouldn't count on that. My Gaydar never lies and it points to queer whenever he's around."

"You have Gaydar? That's kinda gay."

"Dude I was in a glam rock band in the 80's we fucking invented Gaydar."

Nathan shifted uncomfortably.

"So ah, where does it point for me?"

Pickles could tell where this was going.

"Dude relax, liking one guy doesn't make you gay. At most it makes you bisexual. And guess what, bisexual is in right now, chicks totally dig it."

Nathan did seem to relax a little but there was still a trace of nerves when he asked, "What makes you think I like a guy?"

Pickles sighed in exasperation. "Dude, it's kinda fricking obvious that you like Offdensen. Have you told him yet? Cause you totally should."

"What? No I don't... Um, maybe I tried but it didn't go well."

"Well, what did you maybe do?"

"I might have told him he was brutal. But only because he totally is."

Pickles tried to picture a definition of the word brutal that would include their mousey little manager. He just couldn't do it. "Dude, most people wouldn't hear 'you're brutal' and think 'I like you'. You should tell him for reals. With like words and shit. So there is no confusion."

Nathan tried to avoid any further conversation by turning on the TV but the damn thing wouldn't work. Pickles noticed how Nathan was looking everywhere but him.

"Dude, you got it bad for Offdensen don'tcha?"

Seeing that he wasn't getting out of this so easily Nathan finally answered with a begrudging "Maybe."


	17. Chapter 14

Part 14

A little before lunch Charles gathered Nathan to go out shopping. Pickles had gone back to the clinic to get his stuff and Nathan had been killing time with the TV.

Soon enough, they found themselves inside the furniture store. Charles wasn't really sure why the sudden interest in shopping but it was nice to have to have the company all the same.

The store was a huge IKEA rip off, only with everything being made in China instead of Sweden. They moved about the floor, marveling at the fake room set ups.

They were both testing out a sleeper sofa, for the hell of it, when suddenly Nathan asked, "Do you, uh, have a girlfriend?"

The question came out of nowhere. They'd just been talking about color schemes a moment earlier. (Red and black was determined to be the most metal and the only one worth considering.)

"Well no, why do you ask?"

"Pickles said you were, like, gay. He could tell or something. Uh, Gaydar."

Charles gave an unhappy little huff. "Well, he's one to talk, him and that doctor friend."

"Oh, I asked, they're not doing it or anything. He's married or something."

"Oh." Charles didn't know how to respond to that and the silence just dragged on.

"So... Are you?"

"Am I what?" Charles had forgotten the original question.

"Are you, you know, gay?"

Charles was a little flustered when he responded. "Not that it's any one else's business but yes. I am."

"Good."

Charles turned to look at Nathan, quirking an eyebrow.

"Good?"

It was Nathan's turn to be flustered. "Good that Pickles was right and that I didn't bet against him."

Charles didn't much like the idea of them betting on his sex life but he left it alone.

"Not that it really matters as I'll never date again."

Nathan stopped looking flustered and looked more concerned.

"Why not?"

"Every time I get close to someone they either die or cheat on me." Horribly. With his mother. Charles gave a little internal shake and promised himself never to think about that again. He continued. "So I've just decided to be alone. It's easier."

This seemed to make Death angry. Nathan got up and shouted. "That's not fair! You can't just give up like that!"

Every one in the store turned to look at them. Charles got up and tried to calm Nathan down.

"It's alright Nathan, it doesn't really bother me that much."

They got up and started walking to another fake living room set up. Nathan was still pretty pissed.

"Just 'cause a couple of jack-offs die on you is no reason to swear off jack-offs forever."

Charles was getting angry too. He really didn't want to be talking about this in a furniture store. "A couple? Try all but one. And that's only because I dumped his sorry ass when I found him sleeping with my mother." Charles was still just the teensiest bit bitter about that and it showed in his voice.

"Dude, really? Your mom's a hoe."

They stopped to contemplate a truly hideous loveseat sleeper.

"In her defense she didn't know we were dating. But _he_ was definitely a man hoe."

Nathan kick the loveseat a few times and pretended to contemplate the merits of something so ugly.

"... Sorry. That sucks."

Charles wordlessly moved them to a suitable convertible futon.

"What do you think?"

Nathan kicked the frame a few times. "Well, it's pretty metal."

It was indeed. In the sense that it was mostly made of metal. The black futon mattress sat on a simple metal frame. One side could be push up to make it a sofa during the day and pushed down to lay flat at night.

Charles was satisfied with the choice and, honestly, ready for this trip to be over.

"Well then, we'll take it."


	18. Chapter 15

15

Normally, Charles would have just paid someone to deliver and set up the futon, but Nathan wouldn't hear of it. After a heated argument, he walked right over to the disassembled futon in a box and lifted the thing. Nathan flexed his unused muscles and Charles momentarily lost his train of thought.

As Nathan started to walk out of the store, Charles remembered his objections.

"Just because you can lift the box, doesn't mean you should try to carry it all the way home."

Nathan ignored his protest and kept walking.

By the time they got home, Charles was a nervous wreck. Every little sound from Nathan sent Charles into a panic of what ifs. What if Nathan hurt himself? What if he injured his back? What if they had to go to the hospital? What if the hospital kicked him out for not having insurance and Nathan died and it was all his fault?

Charles had never been more grateful to see his apartment building and he was even more grateful that the elevator was working.

Nathan dropped the box down in the middle of the living room and promptly passed out. Charles figured he should just let Nathan rest. Charles retreated to his office and finished sorting his mail.

Underneath a fund raising letter from his old Alma Marta was another off white typewritten envelope. Charles didn't remember seeing it before but then again, it had been hiding under the junk mail.

He carefully examined the envelope but found no identifying marks. There was still no return address and the post office mark was generically from within the city. Charles had the sudden, insane urge to dust for prints, but he restrained himself.

Opening the envelope, he found a blow up of the picture from the earlier letter. The caption was now legible and read: Dr. Gavin Gunhold poses with his prized discovery.

The details of the picture were much clearer this time. Charles could see the jovial old man posing by the pictogram. There was a kind look in his eyes and a smile for the photographer that made Charles instantly like the old man. He looked like the sort of man who was just happy to be doing something he loved, regardless of what he discovered.

The pictogram on the wall was an almost portrait of maybe five figures playing music. One of the figures, the second to the right, was blacked out and invisible. The visible figures all looked startling familiar but Charles couldn't quite place them. One of the figures, holding a long stringy thing, seemed to be missing pants.

This time the photocopy had a note on it, in the same typewriter print as the envelope. The note across the top read: only one piece left.

Charles hadn't the foggiest what it could mean, but he filed it away with the other letter.

Once he was done with the mail, he went to check on Nathan. The man was still dead to the world and Charles didn't even want to think about moving the futon box on his own.

Charles noticed the message light on his phone was beeping. It turned out to be Pickles. The nurses and staff were throwing him a goodbye party and he would be back late. Charles was impressed he'd thought to call and warn them.

Bored, Charles went back to his office to play on the computer. Charles wasn't really used to free time like this and he didn't know what to do with himself. Nathan had bookmarked a couple of browser games and Charles gave one of them a shot but he just couldn't get into it. Finally, still bored, he decided to play seven degrees of Wikipedia. That was where you picked any random page and tried to get back to a different predetermined page using only the links in the articles. Most people picked Hitler as the end page, but Charles went with the less controversial Japan.

It was going good and Charles was learning a lot of random facts, but the game came to a sudden halt when he stumbled on a page about apocalypses through history. There in the corner of the page was the same picture Charles had just been sent in the mail. The image was blurry but it was definitely the same one. Charles was intrigued. Reading on, Charles found only a brief mention of the picture. It was found by Dr. Gavin Gunhold who died shortly after unearthing the temple in the picture. The temple was said to house the souls of the bringers of the apocalypse. While the myth it's self had no page, Gavin Gunhold did and Charles abandon his search for Japan and followed the hyperlink instead.

Gavin Gunhold was a Canadian archeologist. He'd puttered around Mesopotamia at the turn of the century, mostly concentrating on pottery. His biggest discover had been the accidental unearthing of the Temple of Black Music. The same place that was in the picture. Built during the earliest period of Sumerian history, the temple was said to house the souls of the bringers of the end. Not much was said about the myth, but a whole paragraph was devoted to the supposed curse.

Much like the curse of the Pharos, the temple was said to curse whoever first broke the seal. In the final days of excavating Dr. Gunhold was crushed by a freak rock slid. The newspapers at the time blamed the curse. Charles was sure it was all just journalistic sensationalism, and moved on.

The very last section of the page was dedicated to the poetry of Gavin Gunhold. It seems the man had been an armature poet, writing short, little verses that didn't even have the decency to rhyme. The style of the last section was so at odds with the rest of the article, Charles suspected it was the work of high schoolers playing some sort of prank or rewriting Wikipedia to fit a report.

(On registration day at taxidermy school

I distinctly saw the eyes of the stuffed moose

Move.

-Gavin Gunhold)


	19. Chapter 16

Part sixteen

Living with Nathan had been okay. It was companionable and Charles could honestly say that he'd enjoyed it at times. Living with both Nathan and Pickles meant that the rest of the band was always hanging around. Having all of them around was a never ending trial. When taken individually, the boys were halfway decent. But when one or more of them got together they got exponentially stupider and harder to deal with.

Charles had come home last night to find them sticking anchovies to Murderface with postage stamps while Pickles took pictures. There was anchovy juice on his once clean sofa. Charles hadn't even asked for an explanation, he'd just demanded that they get out.

If he was going to keep living with them he was going to need a bigger house. An old school fortress would probably be sufficiently large. Thick enough walls and he could maybe even get a little quite.

Charles was at his wits end. Before the day was over he was going to tell the two of them get out. Dethklok was making money. If they pooled their resources, they could probably afford their own place. If they didn't mind a shoe box in the crummy part of town.

Whatever. They didn't have to go home, they just couldn't stay here.

"Dude, what the hell?" Nathan had just followed a very pissed Charles in to his bedroom. Charles had been trying to escape the insanity of the living room but of course it had to follow him in here. "You've been, like, weird all day."

"Well, ah, Nathan. I'm beginning to feel a bit like my home is under siege."

Nathan looked a little hurt. "I thought you liked having me around."

"Well, yes, but it's not just you any more is it?"

From his place, sprawled out on the sofa, Pickles shouted, "I can hear yah, you know!"

Charles looked a little chagrined. "Sorry Pickles, I was referring to the band as a whole." Switching from shouting back to speaking, Charles continued. "Every night this week I've come home to the entirety of Dethklok fouling up my living room. You know, my sofa was spotless before William started sitting on it. Now I can hardly tell what color it was supposed to be."

"Dude, that's why you should get all black furniture. Not only is it more metal, but you always know what color it is."

"It's like I don't even live here anymore, you boys have just taken over!"

Nathan sputtered a little. "W-what that's not fair. You live here. It's your apartment."

"I pay the rent, but really, Dethklok lives here. Charles is relegated to a small room in the back."

Nathan looked confused. "Rela-what?"

Charles just continued onward. "It's like I'm being forced out of my own apartment."

Nathan could hear the hurt in his voice. It made him feel like a real dildo.

"What? No, I'm sorry! It's your apartment. Pickles and I can leave if you want."

Charles took a moment to reign in his hurt feelings before he next spoke. "That will not be necessary. I do like having you around. I just don't want to come home to Dethklok ever day."

Nathan reached out to Charles. "Okay, we can go be drunk bozos somewhere else. And I promise to kick them out before you get home."

Charles didn't quite know what to do when Nathan reached out for him. When the bigger man pulled him into a hug, Charles just went with it.

For a moment, Charles let himself forget how hard he tried to keep his distance from people. He took comfort in the strong arms enfolding him and the rare moment of peace. It's not like anyone would ever have to know about this one moment of weakness if Charles just let himself enjoy it.

From the living room sofa came the sound of cheering and Pickles shouted, "ALRIGHT! Now just get it over with and fuck!"


	20. Chapter 17

Part sixteen

"ALRIGHT! Now just get it over with and fuck!"

Many things happened at much the same time after this was said.

Charles temporarily lost the ability to speak. A swift recovery was accompanied by an indignant shout of "WHAT!"

Nathan suffered no such lose of articulation, and immediately hurled threats of impending violence at Pickles.

For his part, Pickles took a moment to stumble to his feet, wearing nothing but his tighty whities. He put as much room between himself and a charging Nathan as possible.

The tv, which was still on, featured an enthusiastic anchor man announcing the time in the greatest city on earth and reporting the total number dead in the latest high school riot.

Nathan spent the next few minutes chasing Pickles around the apartment. Pickles, being the more limber of the two, was able to vault over furniture, buying himself time. Nathan didn't give up, plowing into chairs and running around the table. Eventually, Pickles managed to safely barricade himself inside the bathroom.

Nathan was stopped outside the door, explaining the sort of bodily harm that would befall him once he came out.

Charles had watched at first in stunned silence, and later with growing annoyance as they wrecked his apartment giving chase. Charles was really going to need a bigger place. Finally, though, he closed the door to his bedroom and went to lay down.

After a few minutes Nathan calmed down enough for Pickles to speak.

"Dude, you should, like, go after him and explain."

Nathan relaxed and leaned ageist the door, still unwilling to let Pickles out.

"I was, like, finally getting somewhere and you had to fucking ruin it."

"No you weren't. If I hadn't said anything you were just going to let opportunity pass you by. Unresolved sexual tension is only good for giving you blue balls, man. Eventually, you have to actually make a move."

Nathan grumbled something that was almost like denial but it was weak at best. Pickles was right. Even If they hadn't been interrupted, Nathan wouldn't have made a move. He was never normally this pansy-assed about relationships, but then again, he'd never really been in a relationship. There had been girls before Charles, but Nathan had always just charged drunkenly in. The ones who had lasted more than a night had been because the woman had taken charge and declared them dating. Nathan had always had a thing for people in control. That was part of what he liked about Charles.

"Why do I have to make the move? Why can't he do it?" Nathan wined.

"Dude, you two have been living together for over a month. If he was going to make a move, he would have done it by now. He's not a pussy unlike some people. Namely, You."

"That's just it, if he hasn't said anything by now, maybe he doesn't like me. I'm just a big dumb idiot and he's this awesome ninja lawyer dude."

It is worth noting, at this point, that the walls in Charles' apartment are not particularly thick. Even if they were, this conversation was happening not ten feet from where Charles stood. Neither man was whispering. Charles could hear the whole exchange clear as day. He picked this point to open the door.

"Nathan, you're not dumb or an idiot. You know more about TV than anyone else I've ever met, you always find the healthiest thing on the menu when you order for me, and you write beautiful music that people pay to listen to. I'm the stupid one, I'm not a lawyer and I'm not brutal enough to be a ninja. I'm just a minor gear in stupid law firm."

Nathan just couldn't stand by while Charles got so down on himself. He reached out and pulled him close. "Don't say stuff like that. The first time I met you, I knew you were the most brutal guy on the planet."

Nathan pulled him even closer and closed the gap between then and did something that he'd been wanting to do since right after they met. He sealed their lips together. This time Pickles had the good sense to keep quite, although he was watching through a crack in the door.

The kiss was brief and after they separated Charles was the first to speak.

"We can't do this."

Nathan held Charles fast and wouldn't let him pull away. He tried to keep the hurt from his voice but it came out as a strangled whisper when he finally spoke.

"Why not?"

Charles fretted and tried unsuccessfully to pull away.

"I have such bad luck and I don't want anything to happen to you."

Nathan put both hands on either side of Charles' face and forced him to stay still and look at him.

"Didn't you once say I was your good luck charm?"

Charles could only nod his head yes.

"Then trust me."

This time when Nathan pulled him close Charles didn't try to pull a way. As their lips met for the second time, they could hear Pickles cheering again from behind the bathroom door. This time Charles ignored it and let Nathan continue to kiss him.


	21. Chapter 18

AN: if you are confused, go back and reread the end of part 15

18

After a few minutes of being trapped in the bathroom, Pickles decided that no matter how sweet it was to see the two men finally come to an understanding, he wanted out.

"Hey guys?"

Nathan was nuzzling his manager's neck, completely oblivious to the interruption, still blocking the door.

"Uh, GUYS?" Pickles tried again.

"Um, Nathan, I think Pickles wants our attention."

Nathan ignored them both. There was nothing else on earth that could be quite so important as what he was doing right now. Another tight squeeze and Nathan's breath tickled Charles' ear. Charles had to struggle to remember what he was trying to say. He tried again.

"Nathan, don't you think it's time we let Pickles out of the bathroom."

"Damn right it's time we let Pickles out of the bathroom." Pickles grumbled. "Pickles has been stuck in here for over an hour."

That got Charles' attention.

"Oh My God, what time is it?"

Charles detached a reluctant Nathan and went in search of a clock. Pouting, Nathan slumped back against the door, keeping Pickles trapped.

"HOLY HELL! We have twenty minutes before your next show! Go, go! Get ready!"

Charles stormed back into the hallway and rescued an underdressed Pickles from the bathroom.

"Dear God, you're not even dressed yet, go! Hurry!"

Charles shoed them both off to get ready and then ran into his office. Luckily for Charles, years of schooling had made him hyper organized. He quickly grabbed all the necessary papers. He'd stared having venue owners sign liability waivers. Some how, though no fault of their own, disaster all ways struck when Dethklok played. Stages would collapse, random things would catch on fire. Charles blamed the shoddiness of the venues catering to death metal. Not a one of them would pass a safety inspection. Although no one had tried to sue them yet, Charles considered the waivers to be a sensible preventive measure. Last week one of the fans had broken an arm when a stage light fell after a freak localized earthquake. Charles was considering making the audience sign them too.

After he had all the paperwork gathered he spared a moment to call Skwisgaar and hassle him to be on time. He may have been the fastest guitarist in the world but the man had no concept of time.

It was a testament to Charles' skills that every one showed up at the venue with a minute to spare. Murderface turned out to surprisingly prompt and Charles never had to worry about him running late, just about him peeing on things. Charles dreaded the thought of what his patents must have been like to have created such a mess of a human being.

With the show starting and all the proper waivers signed, Charles sat back to watch the crowed. He was starting to recognize a few familiar faces of Dethklok fans. The boy who had broken his arm last week was there, wearing his cast like a badge of honor. Charles would have to get the band to sign it in exchange for not suing.

Charles liked to observe the concert from the back of the club, well beyond the probable damage zone. Just because Charles has yet to be hurt by any of the accidents that plagued the band, didn't mean he wanted to tempt fate. Most of the people in the club were crowed around the stage, cheering and jostling one another. Only a handful of more cautious patrons hung back in Charles corner.

One of the men he recognized from previous shows. He was an elderly professor with a taste for metal but no desire to be injured in the throng mobbing the stage. Charles had shared a companionable drink with him a few shows ago and had learned quite a lot about death metal from an academic stand point. Charles nodded at him, but kept watch from his vantage point toward the back.

Charles noticed another elderly gentleman in the corner furthest from himself. He looked exceptionally out of place in a suit, although Charles was hardly one to talk. Charles always looked out of place, wherever Dethklok happened to play. Still Charles found something off about the old man. Maybe it was the old-fashioned hair cut. Not that senior citizens were known for keeping up with the latest fashion trends. Charles continued to watch the old man but couldn't get a good look at his face.

As Dethklok wrapped up on stage the fan and the chunk of ceiling from which it hung, came crashing down on to the crowed. No one appeared to be seriously injured but Charles again considered having the audience sign some kind of form. He could call them pain waivers. As Nathan would probably say, warning people that there was a chance of death at a death metal show was pretty brutal. It certainly couldn't hurt the image of the band.

As the crowed dispersed Charles caught one final fleeting glance of the man who had so intrigued him. There was something hauntingly familiar about him, if only Charles could put his finger on it.

After the show Nathan came charging right toward Charles and swung him around in a way that had become characteristic. Murderface made an unattractive gagging noise when Nathan leaned in to nuzzle at Charles again, but they just ignored him. A man that actively homophobic had to be in denial about something.

As the band settled in to drink the night away Charles let himself relax. So much had happened today. He'd been on the verge to kicking Dethklok out of his life for good. For the record he was glad he hadn't. His apartment had been completely wrecked during a crazed race between death and a gangly Irish drummer. Despite all his promises to himself he was letting himself care about another human being again and hopefully it would go better this time. All this and he'd still managed to get the band set up and to the show on time. Maybe he was as great as Nathan seemed to think.

Charles tuned back into the conversation just in time to over hear them arguing about dead prostitutes.

"Yah, but if you taxidermied her than you could still have sex."

"No, dude. That's, like, gross."

"Ja, why you is wanting to makes the sex with the dead ladies?"

"Yah, taxidermy is kinda weird, I'm always worried that the eyes are moving."

Wait.

Like being struck by lighting, Charles knew who the man from earlier remind him of. The shock must have been apparent on his face because Nathan put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Dude, are you okay?"

Charles did his best to appear normal. There was no need to worry his boys just yet.

"Yes, I'm fine." Just wondering why a man who's been dead for a hundred years is attending a Dethklok show.


	22. Chapter 19

Author Notes: Semelparous is fancy biologist speak for SEX=DEATH (Latin, semel=once, and pario=to beget). There, you learned a new word and I saved you a googling. Also for the purposes of this fic Toki's little abandoned village doesn't have running water. I would also like to reiterate that if you are enjoying this and waiting for the next chapter, I update first on LJ's Brutal Business comm. under the name Onychophoran.

Part Nineteen

Charles had done the math and concluded that the band needed to record something. Even with their current strong following, they were nothing without some kind of permanent record of their music. Fans could be fickled and Charles didn't want them forgetting about the band after the show. And just think of all that money they were losing out on by not having a CD or merchandise to sell.

Merchandise was easy. Charles had been in contact with a t-shirt printer and once they had a design, the shirts would be ready to go.

The CD idea was harder. To get a true CD you needed a contract and a studio and money. All things Dethklok didn't have. Some day Dethklok would have a recording contract. Charles was sure of it. But for today, they didn't. And while he could probably get them one right now, it wouldn't be the right one and Charles refused to compromise.

Charles had pretty much figured out a way to bootleg their own CDs and keep costs down. He just needed the boys to record something.

Nathan, the defacto leader of the band was reluctant to record.

"It's not right, yet. We're missing something."

Charles recalled a scratched out figure from an ancient pictograph but said nothing. Instead he went back to crunching numbers and contemplating Dethklok's eventual world domination. Not that it would ever happen, but it was nice to think about.

There was no show tonight and the band was meeting at Murderface's to get drunk off their asses, a favorite pastime. Charles had declined an invitation. After all, some people had work in the morning. And anyway it was raining cats and dogs and Charles had no desire to get soaked.

Left to his own devices, Charles had time to think. It was day two of his thing with Nathan and nothing too horrific had happened yet. No buses out of nowhere, no sudden suicidal urges. Charles was feeling cautiously optimistic. Of course they hadn't gone beyond kissing yet but Charles was a little less worried that sex would mean instant death. Charles leaned back in his computer chair. He could get used to this new thing with Nathan. Ever thing was looking up.

Suddenly there came a loud crash from the living room.

Charles should have known better than to tempt fate like that.

Charles went to investigate the noise and found three people dripping on his nice hard wood floor. Two of them he recognized, despite being drenched. The third one was a mystery.

The mystery was little and stringy and had long brown hair. Charles got the impression of a drowned ferret when he looked at him. The kid, because no one would ever mistake him for an adult, looked like he was still in high school. His cloths were military surplus and his baby face was bare save for the saddest attempt at a mustache Charles had ever seen. He was nothing but skin and bones.

"What on earth is that?"

When Charles spoke the kid practically jumped out of his skin and ran behind Nathan, yammering something in high pitched gibberish. Charles backed off immediately, not wanting to frighten the kid any more than he had. He must have been terrified to have spoken so incoherently.

Nathan pet the poor kid's head and mumbled wordless reassurances. Nathan was less drunk than Charles had expected. Then again, he was home earlier than expected, it wasn't even midnight yet. Charles suspected that the kid shivering in his living room had something to do with that.

"I found him under a bridge," Nathan turned his attention to Charles and gave him that damn look again. "Can I keep him?"

Charles sighed. He knew it would do him no good to say no flat out, so he try to reason with him.

"He's a human being, you can't just keep him like some pet."

"But he followed me home and I don't think he has anywhere else to go."

Charles gave the kid a closer look. He certainly looked like someone who had been living on the streets. Charles tried to advance as non-threateningly as possible but after only a few steps the kid got scared again and hid his face in the back of Nathan's shirt.

"Does he have a name?"

This time Pickles answered while Nathan tried to extract the burrowing youth.

"Dude, I dun think he speaks English."

Just great. Flipping perfect.

Now that Nathan had detached the kid, Charles tried again to speak to him.

"What's your name, kid?" Charles spoke clearly and slowly, as if that would help with the language barrier.

The kid just looked up at him with big watery eyes, a look of complete incomprehension on his face. Charles might as well have been speaking Greek, heck Greek might have been better. He tried again, easier this time. He pointed to himself and said, "Me, Charles." he then pointed to the boy. The boy just looked at his pointing hand with fear, like he was worried about being hit. Pointing back to himself he tried again.

Pickles got what he was trying to do. He bent down to eye level with the kid and placed one hand on his own chest.

"Pickles," he announced. "Pick-les The Drumm-er." The kid finally seemed to pick up on what game they were playing. He slapped himself on the chest, prepared to announce his name, only he misjudged his own strength and stumbled backwards. Nathan caught him and righted him and the kid tried again. Gentler this time, he placed a hand on his chest.

"Toki!" he announced proudly.

The kid, Toki presumably, looked so proud of himself for having figured the game out the rest of the men in the room couldn't help but smile back. They all took a moment to reintroduce themselves while the kid repeated back their names. Toki then said something that reminded Charles a lot of the stuff Skwisgaar said when he's really drunk. "Hey maybe we could call Skwisgaar and see if he knows what the kid is saying?"

The two band members just shook their heads.

"Nah," explained Pickles. "He went home with two blondes right before we found little Toki here. He won't be helping us till morning."

Charles sighed again and resigned himself. "I guess he'll just have to stay the night."

Nathan cheered, although not his usual booming cheer, and hugged Charles. Toki gave the two men hugging a weird look until he decided it must be a group hug and joined in. Not wanting to feel left out, Pickles joined the hug too. Charles soon found himself being squeezed by three soaking wet guys. After a moment Charles managed to extract himself and what was left of his dignity.

"Okay, you two go change out of those wet cloths and I'll see if I can't find something dry for our new little friend to wear. This way Toki."

Hearing his name called, Toki followed dutifully, while the other two rummaged around in their respective garbage bags for dry cloths. Charles lead a skittish Toki into his bedroom. Rifling around in the back of the bottom drawer, Charles found an old Harvard t-shirt and a pair of sweats that were only a little to big for the kid.

"Well, these will have to do. They'll be baggy, but at least they're dry."

While he didn't understand a word, Toki looked just so happy to have someone talking to him. Charles wondered what circumstances could have lead to such an innocent and endearing kid living on the street. Surely his parents must be worried sick.

The rain had done much to clean his face but Charles could tell it had been a long time since he's had a proper shower. Before handing over the dry cloths, Charles walked them both to the bathroom.

"Alright kid, you look like you could use a shower. I'll just leave the cloths here and you can change into them afterwards." Charles didn't know why he was still talking to the kid. It's not like he understood. The kid just kept starring at Charles. Charles tried to leave the room but Toki followed him back out. Pickles showed up just then, hair toweled off, wearing only his underpants.

"Hey, Chief. What game are we playing now?"

"I'm trying to get him to take a shower, but I don't think he understands."

"Let me try." Pickles pointed to the shower and said as if talking to a dog, "Okay boy, it's shower time, go shower!"

Nathan showed up behind them in a clean black t-shirt and shorts.

"He's not a dog, dude."

Toki turned took look at Nathan, excited that all his new friends were together again.

Pickles snapped his fingers. "Got it, maybe we just need to show him." Pickles walked into the bathroom and opened the sliding glass door of the shower. Toki came closer to investigate this strange new space. As he got closer Pickles tugged on the handle and turned the shower on to further illustrate what they wanted. At the sudden deluge of water from above Toki gave a scream and ran to hide behind Nathan again, shrieking in gibberish.

Pickles turned the shower off. They all shared a moment of silence while Toki continued to cower behind Nathan. Charles was the first to speak.

"You know, I don't think this kid has ever seen a shower before."

"Dude, what kind of rock has he been living under?"

There really was no right answer to that question. Charles hoped fervently that come morning Skwisgaar would be able to shed some light on the situation.

They gave up the idea of making the poor kid shower. He was clean enough from the rain. The concept of running water fascinated him and after Charles had shown him the sink, he spent a good twenty minutes just playing with the taps.

During that time, the three adults in the room worked out sleeping arrangements.

"Well, he can't sleep on the arm chair, he's too tall."

"And he can't have the sofa, that's were I sleep."

"And he's not sleeping with you because only I get to sleep with you and I haven't done it yet."

Charles sighed. He'd been doing that a lot this evening.

"Look, my bed is big enough for two people and surely you can't be jealous of such a little kid?"

Nathan growled. "We don't know that he's little. He could be like one of those midgets who dress up like lost kids and then kill people."

They all turned to contemplated a laughing Toki who was quickly turning the sink from hot to cold and back again.

"Uh, I doubt it, dude."

"Whatever, I stay with Charles. The kid can have my room."

Charles mumbled something about semelparousness but didn't argue.

Really it was the only logical solution.

Pickles flopped down on the sofa and was out like a light. Toki was detached from the sink and shown to the office futon. He gave the computer a strange look but he seemed to understand the point of the bed.

This left Charles and Nathan alone in the bedroom. Nathan was already dressed for bed, but Charles had to strip down and throw on an old pajama top. Charles turned off the light. They both slipped silently under the covers. Since finding out that Charles felt much the same, Nathan had been unable to keep his hands to himself. If it wasn't bothering Charles, why deign himself such a simple pleasure? His arms went immediately around Charles, pulling him close. After a minute or two of comfortable silence, Nathan bent down to whisper in Charles' ear.

"You know, I've never had sex with a dude before."

"Moot point, as you are not having sex with one now."

Nathan chuckled into Charles' ear. The faint tickling made Charles smile despite himself.

"Pickles was explaining some if the mechanics to me." At this, Nathan freed his hands from around Charles and made an obscene hand motion. "And I think I've got the basic idea."

"How does Pickles...? Never mind. There are clearly untold depths to that well."

Nathan chuckled again and moved his hand lower. Charles stopped his wrist with kung-fu grip.

"Some of us have work in the morning."

Nathan balked. "Maybe, but not you. You're going to call in sick because you're worried about leaving Toki alone with us."

Damn, Nathan was right. "If I leave you alone, you'll probably just get the poor kid drunk. When I come home not only will I still have a little lost foreign boy to deal with, I'll have a room full of drunken idiots too."

Nathan could hear the underlying concern in his voice. He gave Charles a comforting squeeze. "Don't worry, we'll figure everything out."


	23. Chapter 20

Author Notes: Maple syrup is a singularly North American phenomenon. The cultural specifics of pancakes around the world can be absolutely fascinating. Or maybe I'm just a very dull person.

If Charles kept taking off work like this, they were going to fire him. That was fine, if Dethklok ever made it big he could just quit and be their, what had Nathan called him? _Ninja lawyer_ full time.

Since he had to be up early to call off work, he decided to make breakfast for everyone. But first he checked in on little Toki to be sure that yes, the kid was still asleep, and yes, the silverware was still safe. Not that Charles actually thought the boy capable of such deception, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Toki was sleeping peacefully, practically swimming in Charles' old t-shirt. He could see what qualities Nathan had found so endearing about the boy.

Back in the living room, Pickles was still asleep, sprawled half-on, half-off the couch.

Charles was in no rush to prepare breakfast. It would be at least an hour before either of the two known variables arose. Charles might not have been much of a cook, but he could handle simple pancakes. His last boyfriend, the one who'd died in a coma, had been an amateur master chief, like all gay men are supposed to be. He'd spent a morning once, shortly before being hit by that bus, teaching Charles the proper way to make pancakes from scratch. Charles fixed up the ingredients and left the batter to sit on the counter. There was nothing worse than cold pancakes and letting the batter sit for an hour or so was good for the final product. At least, that's what he'd been told, in a horrible fake French chief accent. Charles wasn't really sure if he could taste the difference. He put the bacon to defrost and went to grab the morning paper.

Halfway through the paper he heard the first sounds of life. Glancing over his paper, he found a bare foot Toki shuffling nervously, looking deeply unsure of himself. He smiled at the kid, trying to put him at ease. He wasn't about to give someone so young coffee, but they just happened to have orange juice in the house. Pickles had been mixing it with vodka. He poured the kid a glass and sat him down across from himself at the table. Charles handed him the comic page, thinking, even if he couldn't understand the words, he might appreciate the pictures. Toki was indeed absolutely delighted by the comic pictures and Charles had time to finish up the business section of the paper.

Charles could tell that Toki was getting bored trying to figure out what Marmaduke was up to by the time he was done. He there for mercifully decided to get on with breakfast. Anyway, Charles figured that Nathan had had enough time to sleep. So he started in on the pancakes. Toki watched with utter fascination as Charles went about heating the pan. The first pancake came out burnt, as the first one always does. Charles handed it to Toki who ate it plain and piping hot. He seemed to enjoy it and launched into what appeared to be an enthusiastic story in gibberish. After Toki had finished the story Charles explained, through a very creative pantomime, that he should go and wake up Nathan for breakfast. He seemed to get the idea because he disappeared down the hallway and a minute later Charles heard the tell tale sounds of death waking. They both showed up just as Charles began frying the bacon.

Toki moved toward Pickles, thinking to wake him up too, but a sleepy Nathan caught him before he could get too close.

"Trust me kid, you don't want to do that. Pickles will wake up when he wakes up. Just leave him be."

Nathan crossed the kitchen to Charles' side. Wrapping his arms around him from behind, he was careful not to interfere with the parts of him frying bacon.

"I woke up and you were gone." Nathan intoned, his voice still heavy from sleep.

"Yes, well, you sleep too much." Charles was a bit flustered as he busied himself with flipping a pancake.

"Next time you should stick around till I wake up."

Charles blushed deeply and reached into the cabinet for another plate. Detaching from Charles, Nathan snagged a piece of bacon.

Toki regarded them with curiosity. He couldn't quite figure out why two men were acting like that. He would have liked to have asked someone but damn if they didn't all speak gibberish.

Gathering his wits about him, Charles instructed Nathan to phone Skwisgaar. "And tell him there are pancakes in it for him if he gets here quick enough."

The smell of bacon frying woke Pickled in time to join them but not with enough time to put on pants. Charles had grown accustomed to pants-less Pickles, it would have been almost weird to see him wearing them around the house. They dug in with enthusiasm and Toki regaled them with another tale no one understood. Judging from the accompanying hand motions, it must have been some story. Charles could swear at one point he'd been talking about a rabbit and an hawk like monster that must have been huge. Before they could go back for seconds Skwisgaar showed up. Nothing motivates a man like the thought of fresh pancakes and someone else eating his share.

Skwisgaar looked over the mess on the table with lofty disdain. "This ams not pancakes. Ams too thick. But is okay. I brought the jams." Charles didn't quite have enough chairs at the table so he dug out old boxes from the storage closest to sit on. At the very least Charles was going to have to invest in some extra chairs if he was going to keep having company over like this.

Toki looked absolutely thrilled at the sight of jam. He'd been confused when Charles brought out the maple syrup but seemed to enjoy it after he tried some. Toki pilled his plate high with pancakes, jam, syrup and the last of Charles' leftover Cool Whip, brought when a coworker gifted him with pie last holiday season. Charles drew the line when he saw him reaching for the granulated sugar.

"Easy, kid. We wouldn't want your teeth to fall out."

Toki made a protest in gibberish.

Skwisgaar responded in kind.

Oh good, they do both speak the same brand of gibberish.

Toki seemed thrilled to hear familiar words in this forging land. The two launched into to a conversation immediately with Toki doing most of the talking. Finally the English speaking members of the table couldn't take the suspense any more.

Pickles spoke up. "So, what's he sayin' dude?"

Skwisgaar scoffed and answered with as much haughtiness as any one mortal could manage. "He ams saying he is nots the littles girls because he ams not wearing the dress. Hmp. Shirts am are big enough like dress."

Charles was a bit offended at the unintentional slight at his favorite t-shirt. It's not his fault the kid was so skinny.

"Not that, where is he from?" growled Nathan.

Skwisgaar posed the question and the kid answered back.

After a few minutes Skwisgaar translated his response.

"He ams not from here." There were three collective face palms around the table.

"Well, we knew that already. Where is he from and how did he get here?" Charles was growing impatient.

It took another few minutes of enthusiastic talking and frantic hand waving before Toki paused long enough for Skwisgaar to report back.

"He ams from Norway."

The other three waited with baited breath. Surely he must have said more?

"And...?"

Skwisgaar looked confused. "Ja? And what's?"

Charles was nearing the end of his patience. "How did he get here?"

Skwisgaar sighed the sigh of the put upon. He went back in and asked Toki again. More wild gesturing and a good deal of pointing.

"He ams says Nathans brings him here."

Charles was seriously wishing he'd taken Norwegian as his third language instead of Mandarin. "But how did he...? God, never mind! Ask him how old he is."

At least this time the response was short and Charles didn't feel like he was missing something in the translation.

"He ams nineteen."

"What, really?" It was Pickles who first expressed his disbelief, but he spoke for the tabled at large.

"I was expecting something much younger" at least Charles wouldn't have to enroll him in government mandated school. Not that it would really have been his responsibility. When did he start to think of the boy as his problem anyway? Before Nathan, he'd never had a problem taking in strays. Now he had a house full of them. What was the world coming too?

"What are we going to do with him?"

Skwisgaar started to translate the question but Nathan stopped him with a hastily placed hand over the mouth.

"Dildo! That question was for us, not him!"

They sat in silence, each contemplating the remains of breakfast.

Nathan, and his bleeding heart, were the first to speak. "We can't send him back."

Charles could never understand how someone who spent every waking moment trying to be brutal could have such a soft spot for stray kittens and people.

"But Nathan, we just don't have the room. Where would he sleep?"

There was no arguing with that. The apartment was overflowing as it was. Nathan would have been fine sharing a bed with Charles but given how uncomfortable it made the other man he wasn't about to push the issue.

Finally Pickles had a suggestion. "I can call Doc later and see if he knows any place that will take him."

It wasn't ideal, but it would do. Charles started clearing away breakfast things. Not knowing what else to do, Toki started to help. It broke Charles' heart. Finally, someone willing to help with the dishes and Charles was turning him away. No one would ever accuse him of having an over abundance of Christian charity, he hardly even qualified as a Christian, but in this instance he wished he had more to give.

"Ah, Nathan, could you take those boxes back to the storage closet?"

"We have a storage closet?"

"Yes, it's behind that weird door in the office."

"I always thought that door lead to The Twilight Zone or something."

"Nathan, boxes, closet. Now."

Charles was doing the dishes while Toki dried them and told some kind of story. Skwisgaar, who was lounging on the sofa with Pickles would occasionally make sarcastic comments in Swedish, but never bothered to translate.

"HOLY SHIT! CHARLES, GET IN HERE!"

Charles dropped the dish he was cleaning and it clattered into the sink. Charles practically ran. Oh God, what could it be? Surely Nathan hadn't found something macabre in the closet, like a dead body? Then again if anyone could find a dead body in an unused closet, it would be Nathan.

Charles panted as he came to a stop next to Nathan. A quick look around calmed his worst fears. Nothing rotting behind any of the boxes. Nathan was looking around the walk in closet with awe.

"This is huge! It's practically another room."

"What?" Charles was confused. He'd dropped everything and ran for this? To hear how large his closet was? Well he knew that, he'd brought the place.

"If you move those boxes to the back there is enough room from someone to sleep here."

Charles could see where this was going. "While I appreciate the effort, it's a _closet_." Charles tried to imbue the word closet with enough disdain that Nathan would understand that no one in their right mind would sleep there.

"Hey, he was living under a bridge before, I don't think he'll be too picky." effectively ending the argument, he hollered out to the living room. "Dudes, come see this. And bring Toki."

The rest of the drunken idiots, I mean the guys, showed up.

"Dude, I dun get what we're looking at? Is it the junk? All I see is junk."

Toki and Skwisgaar were bickering about something presumably unrelated and had no comment on the closet.

Nathan was disappointed in the other guy's lack of imagination, but then again he was the brains of the operation.

"No, not the junk. Picture it without all the boxes. And, like, a little cot or something."

"Look dude, is this about my drinking? Because trust me, I've been drunker."

"What the hell? No. I was talking about Toki."

Hearing his name, Toki stopped whatever argument he was having with Skwisgaar and looked to Nathan. Completely ignoring that Toki still didn't speak English, Nathan started to explain.

"See if we clear out the boxes and junk, we could put, like, a bed or something and then you could stay here."

Toki looked to his translator expectantly. A reluctant Skwisgaar explained. Charles couldn't imagine what he said because the next thing he knew, Toki was chattering away and hugging people with excitement. It doesn't take a translator to see that Toki has accepted the generous offer of the use of the closet. Which is for the best, as Skwisgaar offers no translation.


	24. Chapter 21

Author Notes: Remember this? I had a particularly bad case of insomnia last night and wrote part twenty two. I woke up this morning and realized I never posted part twenty one. This has been sitting on my hard drive since July. Dear god, I suck.

Charles could remember a point in time when his apartment had been a peaceful sanctuary from the outside world. He remembered coming home after a long day of work to sprawl out on the clean sofa and read the latest law review journal. He remembered how calm and peaceful it had all been.

He even remembered the times when it had been just him and Nathan. Sure, with Nathan around it wasn't nearly as peaceful but coming home to a movie had been a lot more fun than the latest court case.

As the chaos continued around him, Charles wondered if he would ever come home to peace and quiet again. Officially only two members of Dethklok lived with him (three if you counted Toki as a sort of mascot) but somehow they all managed to find their way over anyway. The band had recently acquired a second guitarist, a sort of friend of Skwisgaar's. He was probably the most sensible member of the band, but that wasn't saying much.

The boys were currently debating the merits of installing a hot tub in the living room. Charles was trying, in vain one might add, to balance the account book. He had half an ear on the conversation and was actually impressed at some of their points. It was a futile conversation, Charles owned the apartment and there was no way he was going to risk damaging it with a hot tub, but given that they were drunk the argument was almost convincing.

If you'd ask Charles a month ago he would have said there was no way his tiny little apartment could accommodate this many people. It now had four permanent residents and it was becoming increasingly common for another three to be passed out drunk on the floor.

Things were going great but he couldn't help feeling a bit uneasy. Haunted by a ghost from the past if you will pardon a bit of black humor. Gavin Gunhold. For a dead man, he certainly got around. Charles had seen him at practically every show since he'd started to look for him. He'd even started spotting him on the street. While Charles would have dearly loved to chalk it all up to coincidence that old fashioned mustache was just too out dated to be anyone else. Charles had tried to corner him and ask, but like the ghost that he was Gavin was hard to pin down. Gavin was always just on the other side of a crowed, no trace of him by the time Charles got close.

Charles also had some questions about the Sumerian artifact. Why were there four perfect reproductions of his boys thousands of years before they'd been born? And who was the fifth blacked out figure? It was hard to find a decent copy of the pictogram, short of flying to the Middle East and visiting the temple for himself, but Charles was sure the new guitarist wasn't on it. This was both comforting and unsettling. On one hand if the Sumerian artifact had gotten that detail wrong maybe the other four figures were just a coincidence. But on the other hand it could mean that the new guitarist wasn't long for the band and there was more to come. Charles had never really been a history buff but he was slowly becoming an expert on Sumaria. Sadly there just wasn't that much known about the temple where the picture had been found. Dr. Gunhold had been the first person to find it in millennia and when he had died so mysteriously right afterward no one else had been willing to explore. Of course, Dr. Gunhold wasn't dead. Dr. Gunhold was alive and well and attending death metal shows. If only Charles could catch him and ask him and then maybe things would make more sense.

Understandably Charles hadn't told the rest of the band. Well, he'd told Toki but that was only because the boy still didn't understand English and it was nice to get it off his chest. Nathan already thought he was paranoid, how much worse would it be if Charles admitted to seeing ghosts? Between the constant waivers, the increased security and his strange reluctance to take the next step, the paranoid label was well deserved. How much worse would it be if Charles admitted the security was to catch a ghost and the lack of intimacy was due to a hypothetical curse? Then he'd not only be paranoid but superstitious to boot.

Things with Nathan were at a standstill. It had become traditional to make out after each show and Charles was now intentionally cuddling up to him on the sofa but ever time things got below the waist, he'd freeze up. Charles really liked the way things were now. He liked having something to do at night. He liked having people to come home to. He even liked being an accidental parent to a group of grown men. He couldn't shake the feeling that something disastrous would happen if he took things any farther with Nathan. He kept putting Nathan off which was making both of them frustrated. Pickles was back to dropping unsubtle hints that they should screw. He kept volunteering to take Toki out for a few hours or suggesting nice hotels with hourly rates. Charles was going to have to work this out soon.

He promised himself he'd think it over during the next show. The crowd was huge but he still managed to find himself an empty table at the back. Toki started the evening off with Charles but soon ran into to a group of familiar young Dethklok fans. Charles was certain that should he check they would all turn out to have fake ids.

So he was alone at a table nursing a glass of wine. It was rare for Dethklok to play at the sort of establishment that would serve wine, so he was taking advantage of it.

Charles wasn't doing a very good job of coming to a conclusion about Nathan. Instead his mind drifted off to what would happen after the show. Nathan's traditional suck-the-life-out-of-Charles-while-still-sweaty-and-full-of-energy-from-singing kiss. It was a very distracting sort of thought. On some level he realized it was almost like having made a decision anyway. If only he could be sure sex wouldn't somehow lead to death.

Charles looked up from his thoughts and found someone sitting next to him. Someone presumably dead. Dr. Gunhold appeared anxious ,looking around suspiciously and trying to make himself invisible.

"Dr. Gunhold, I presume?" Charles was still hoping he was wrong about the guy sitting next to him and this was just some sort odd coincidence.

No such luck. The old man nodded and tried to collect his thoughts. Charles considered being a good host and offering him some wine, but did dead men even drink wine? That was just silly, he couldn't be dead he was sitting right there in front of him.

Taking a deep breath Dr. Gunhold prepared to speak. "You must beware. The Metalocalypse is approaching." Now these words could have held the weight of a dire warning had they been spoken by a different man. Dr. Gunhold had the tone and inflection of someone's favorite jolly old uncle, completely robbing the warning of its weight. A look of annoyance passed over his face and you could tell that had not been the effect he was going for.

"Damn," he cursed under his breath. "That sounded much better in my head." he tried again, this time puffing out his chest and shouting. "Beware for the Time of Reckoning is nearly upon us! The dead will walk among the living and-" people at the neighboring tables silenced him with their glares, annoyed by the noise.

Dr. Gunhold sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Sorry," he said. "I pictured this going a lot better."

Charles, who had at first been in awe of the potential cosmic anomaly in front of him, was starting to get annoyed. He was going to have to take control of this conversation if it was ever going to get anywhere meaningful.

"Why don't you forget the theatrics and just tell me what you are doing here?"

"But you're the first living human I've really gotten to talk to since being dead and I was hoping to make an impression."

"I'm talking to a guy who died a hundred years ago, trust me, you've already made an impression."

Dr. Gunhold seemed placated by this. "I don't have much time before my master starts looking for me so I must make this quick."

"Master?" Charles questioned.

"A demon known as Selatcia. Trust me, you don't want to meet him."

A demon. Of course. Charles would have been a bit more disbelieving had he not been talking to a ghost. Or maybe a zombie. He wasn't sure. He should probably ask.

"See," Dr. Gunhold explained getting straight to the point. "Your band is made up of the reincarnated souls of ancient Sumerian musicians, cursed to bring about the Metalocalypse. If all five souls join together and play music they will set in motion the end of the world. You have four right now and you must-" Dr. Gunhold's face froze quite suddenly. "My master awakens. I must go." as he stood up to leave he gave one last attempt at a dire warning. "You alone can prevent the Metalocalypse." this time he succeeded making the words seem appropriately dramatic. Then, lost instantly in the crowd, he was gone.

This gave Charles a lot to think about, not that Dr. Gunhold had been particularly helpful or informative. He could barely hear the music Dethklok was playing although it normally demanded attention. Charles didn't believe in ghosts or demons, reincarnation or the end of the world. He did believe in curses, but that was a different sort of thing. But somehow he knew Dr. Gunhold had told the truth. There was something not quite right about the way Dethklok played. Something foreign and otherworldly in Nathan's familiar eyes when he sung.

He longed to go back in time to just before the strange conversation when his biggest problem had been whether he was ready to have sex with his boyfriend. What did it matter if Nathan died? Apparently he could just come back, reincarnated.


	25. Chapter 22

Charles has almost stopped checking the mail. What with the occasional letters from dead people and the mentally scaring fan mail, it's hardly worth the trouble. Some day he will have to get himself an assistant, some faceless gear in a well oiled machine that will check the mail and let him know if anything requires his immediate attention. But until that day he will have to check it himself.

It's six am and all the boys are passed out drunk in the living room. He is really going to have to get a bigger apartment some day. There is hardly room to navigate through the living room without stepping on someone. Nathan, sprawled out face down on the floor takes up more room than any one human reasonably should. Truthfully he takes up more room than two humans reasonably should.

The beer cans and liquor bottles still litter floor. Far be it for any of them to pick up after themselves, it's not like it's his apartment and they are guest or anything. One of these days he's going to have to talk one of Dethklok's over enthusiastic fans into playing housekeeper. None of them should even be here. Except maybe Nathan, who was at least sort of invited in the beginning and has since become an integral part of his daily routine. And if Nathan was going to stay then Toki could stay too because Charles wasn't quite mean enough to kick someone out on to the street when they couldn't speak the language and lacked the life skills to fend for themselves. And if he couldn't kick Toki out because he had no place else to go then he could hardly evict Pickles. Sure Pickles could probably fend for himself but Charles didn't really mind his constant snoring over breakfast and he was a pretty easy house guest, all things considered. And he could hardly slam the door on Murderface when all his friends/less hostile acquaintance were here in the apartment. That would just be mean and Charles could tell Murderface was one minor inconvenience away from the edge. The edge of what, he wasn't sure. Charles couldn't tell what Skwisgaar's excuse was. He had a perfectly decent apartment of his own and an improbable array of women willing to keep him company but if he wanted to spend the night passed out on Charles' living room floor, who was he to object. And so Charles was right back where he started, a living room full of drunken idiots.

He made his way gingerly to the kitchen table where he'd dropped the pile of mail the night before. Sliding quietly into the chair he adjusted a nearby blind to allow just enough light for him to read by.  
Sorting the mail he quickly started a pile of heavily scented envelops mark Skwisgaar. Experience had taught him not to open any of those letters. Even if he wasn't bent as a logarithmic curve he still didn't think he'd see the appeal in the sort of women who wrote those letters.

The other band members had started to receive their own fair share of (less creepy) fan mail. Charles didn't mind so much opening up those and passing on the ones he knew his boys would want to see. The first dozen or so girly letters addressed to Nathan had been viciously shredded and disposed of until the rest of the band had started to tease Nathan about his lack of female fans. Charles had been forces to let a few of the letters through. The most risqué and provocative were still quietly disposed of when nobody was looking.

After the fan mail there was the usual assortment of bills and official correspondence. Charles was relieved to find none of the letters were from someone who had died a hundred years ago.

At the bottom of his stack of letters was a thick envelope from an unfamiliar address. He turned it over in his hands and contemplated. Not that it did him any good. The letter would remain just as enigmatic until he opened it. Sliding the letter open he fought the childish urge to hold his breath.

Holy shit.

It was from the state bar.

He'd passed.

"NATHAN!" Charles shouted and leaped to his feet. "NATHAN!" he shouted again, tripping over a gracefully sprawled Skwisgaar in his haste to wake Nathan. It was hardly fair to be waking him up at this hour. He'd probably only just gotten to sleep. But it was just such wonderful news and he had to share it.

Kneeling, or more accurately artfully falling to Nathan's side he tried to wake the slumbering giant. Having finally remembered that other people in the room were trying to sleep he lowered his voice.  
"Nathan. Nathan wake up. I've got wonderful news. I passed." Shaking the piece of paper at a still snoring lump on the floor he repeated the pertinent part of his statement. "I passed!"

Nathan groped in the general direction of the noise with a large uncoordinated hand. Blindly feeling his way up Charles' chest he grabbed a handful of shirt and pulled until Charles had no choice but to lay down in the awkward space between Nathan and the coffee table. Now much closer to his target's ear he tried again, "Nathan! I passed, I'm a law-"

The large hand again blindly sought out the source of the noise and clamped over Charles' mouth.

"Shh. Sleep now." Nathan mumbled without opening his eyes.

Charles resigned himself to his fate and tried to extract himself from Nathan's iron grip. Struggling only caused Nathan to shift so that he was now half on top of Charles, pressing him into the edge of the coffee table. After a few minutes of wondering whether he would forever bear the mark of the coffee table digging into his shoulder, Nathan shifted again and pulled him out of harm's way.

With Nathan holding him close and the coffee table no longer playing the role of his mortal enemy Charles thought he could probably manage to sleep. As the world faded in to the pleasant mist of sleep he felt Death lean closer still and whisper into his ear.

"Congratulations."


	26. Chapter 23

Nothing motivates quite like the end of the world. Not that Charles knew for sure the world was ending, but he had his suspicions. He was even pretty sure he was going to have a hand in ending it. Or saving it. He hadn't made up his mind definitively. It would help if he had more information. He'd cleared out the library of every book even tangentially related to Summeria and googled until he could google no more and he still couldn't find any reference to a demon known as Selatcia or the Metalocalypse. It really would help if a certain deceased archeologist had said anything even remotely useful.

But the point was impending doom really did help to put things into perspective. Like if the world was going to end next Tuesday, what would he regret not doing? Screwing his stupidly handsome boyfriend, that's what he'd regret. It seemed a bit silly die with regret. Particularly when that regret could be so easily resolved. Even if Charles was cursed to bring death to everything he slept with, and recent events had only made the possibility of a curse seem more plausible, did it really matter if Nathan died tomorrow or next week with everyone else? Well maybe a little, but that was a risk he was going to have to take.

Having made up his mind not to die without getting laid at least one last time was the easy part. Putting that plan into action was proving more of a challenge. Someone was always hanging around. Living with two other permanent house guests and an assortment of hangers on meant never truly being alone. He could always escape into his bedroom and lock the door but if he dragged Nathan in with him it was bound to get loud. The thinness of his walls had never bothered him before, but then again, he'd never had to worry about an audience. While the thought of what overhearing might do to Murderface's brain amused him to no end, he wasn't sure if he could face the rest of them afterward. Dear God, someone would probably have to explain the noise to Toki. Charles' limited Norwegian, curtsey of The Google, was not up to giving the gay friendly version of the birds and the bees. So he had no choice but to get them all out of the apartment save Nathan.

This was why he was glad he hadn't thrown out Pickles.

"Hey, Chief!"

It was just pass noon and Pickles was awake enough to be sitting upright but not quite awake enough for pants. Not that he was ever really awake enough for pants.

"What?" Charles replied distractedly. Nathan was off showing Toki how to blow up virtual zombies on the computer in the other room and Charles was taking advantage of the relative peace to review a few possible recording contracts. He almost thought he'd found a winner if they could iron out some vague language and maybe include a clause that provided housing for the rest of the band. In a spacious apartment. On the other side of the city.

"I was thinking of maybe going out for the afternoon."

This was good news but Charles didn't want to appear too interested yet. He kept a hold of the contract and pretended to read.

"Um hm?" he made the most non committal noise he could manage with his heart thumping like crazy.

Pickles continued, "I was thinking of maybe going to the zoo an' takin' Toki. We could spend the whole afternoon there." Pickles turned around on the sofa and gave Charles a sly smile. Charles knew exactly what he was hinting at.

It was almost too good to be true. Which is of course why he questioned it.

"The zoo?"

Now Pickles looked evasive. "You've got a problem with the zoo?"

"No, I just don't believe that you actually plan to go there."

"Toki's never been and I thought it might be fun."

Charles put down the contract and gave Pickles a long hard look. "You, ah, know they don't actually have any of those frogs that you can lick to get high, right?"

Pickles looked guilty. "But I saw some on a commercial last night."

Charles remembered the particular commercial in question. "Those were poison dart frogs. Do not lick the poison dart frogs."

"But-"

"No. Do Not Lick The Poison Dart Frogs. Note the word poison right in the name."

Pickles looked put out at this new piece of information. Disappointed, like maybe he won't be visiting the zoo today after all.

"You know, I hear good things about centipedes. Supposedly lemurs get high all the time off of licking centipedes."

Pickles looked thoughtful. The trip to the zoo was back on. Excellent. There was one last thing to take care of.

"Maybe you should ask William to join you."

"I don't think he's allowed back in the zoo after that incident with the warthog."

Damn.

"But you know, he's busy with stuff today anyway." Pickles continued.

Perfect. For once it's almost like the universe was working with him instead of against.

"So, have you got any plans for your afternoon alone with our favorite recently bisexual lead singer?" The way Pickles said plans, it's almost like it's the most salacious word in the English language. With what Charles has in mind, it practically was.

Ignoring the wagging eyebrow Charles resumed reading the contract. "Go put some pants on," he commanded, a smile hidden behind the legal document.


	27. Chapter 24

WARNING: Sex. Finally.

(p.s. thank you to all my lovely reviewers, you are a source of constant inspiration and encouragement.)

The instant the door closed behind them Charles was all over Nathan. A very surprised Nathan. This was not typical Charles-like behavior, not that he was ready to object.

"I thought they'd never leave." Charles hissed into the side of Nathans jaw. He grabbed Nathan by the front of his shirt and navigated in the direction of the bedroom without breaking the kiss.

This was defiantly not Charles-like behavior. For one, he was unaware that Charles possessed the hidden talent to suck the life out of him using only his lips. Where was this hidden talent last week when Nathan had found a conveniently empty broom closet after a show?

As they made their way through the hallway Charles slipped one hand into the back of Nathan's pants and squeezed.

Okay. That was just a little too weird. What was this, the twilight zone? There should have been some sort of sign or at the very least that scary door. He pushed Charles far enough away to catch his breath.

"What the hell!"

Charles looked confused at the abrupt change in attitude.

"I ah, thought you wanted to?"

"I thought you didn't?"

Damn. It looked like they were going to have to talk about this. Hopefully the apocalypse would wait until after they finished this conversation.

"It's not that I didn't want to," started Charles, pressing himself against the opposite wall. He suddenly looked small and vulnerable, trying to put as much space between them as the short hallway would allow. Maybe Nathan should have waited until afterwards to have this conversation. "It's just that everyone I've ever slept with has either died or turned out to be a jerk, and well, you're ah, not a jerk."

"I could, you know, be more of a jerk if that would help?"

Charles shook his head and smiled slightly, making Nathan feel a little better about starting this clusterfuck of a conversation.

"No you couldn't."

"What uh, changed?"

"It's recently been brought to my attention that we are all going to die, sooner or later." Probably sooner. "So why die with regret."

That was pretty fucking brutal. Nathan moved closer to Charles and told him so. "So if you died right now your last thought would be of having sex with me?" That was kinda hot, like maybe he could work it into a good song.

Charles pulled Nathan closer till they were almost touching. "So, can we ah, pick up where we left off?" he asked.

"I don't know dude," Nathan was grinning like an idiot. "What if we do it and you die thinking about some other jackass?"

Charles' look turned serious as one hand crept its way under Nathan's shirt. "Don't make me beg."

Gah! Nathan's brain short circuited. That was hot. And a great idea, but maybe for later. Nathan didn't think he had that kind of self control right now.

Nathan kissed Charles hot and heavy, ready to pick up where they left off. Charles stood on tippy toes to meet his lips full on and clung desperately to Nathan's neck. This was so much better than talking. Nathan groaned as Charles' squirmed against him. They should probably resume their journey toward the bedroom.

Charles' hands found their way back down Nathans pants and squeezed. Or the hallway was good. The hallway could work.

Charles used his grip on Nathan's ass to pull them closer together. Nathan was momentarily surprised by the feel of someone else's erection rubbing against him, but all things considered it was probably better than the alternative.

Nathan pulled viciously at Charles' shirt right at the same time as Charles tried to remove it himself. Their hands met in a jumble in the middle. Charles let out a breathy half aborted laugh and Nathan single handedly defeated his shirt and threw it in the direction of the living room.

Nathan got his first good look at Charles' naked chest. He took a step back to get a better look and traced a finger down well defined muscles. Maybe they should rethink that whole bedroom idea. Nathan couldn't wait to see all that muscle spread out on the sheets, panting, ready for him.

"Bedroom!" he gasped out like it was a groundbreaking concept. Charles was in complete agreement and led the way. Nathan divested himself of his own shirt and tossed it toward the bathroom door. He started in on his own pants as Charles opened up the door. Forgetting about his own pants he moved on to Charles'. Suddenly it seemed terribly important that he not be wearing them. He got the fly undone then push Charles toward the bed. Charles managed to fall gracefully despite being half naked and turned on like hell. Charles propped himself up by his elbows and watched as Nathan pulled off his pants as quickly as possible without causing harm. Wearing only his simple boxers Nathan could see the outline of Charles' dick, achingly hard through the thin fabric. Yup, the bed had definitely been a good idea.

Charles started to squirm as Nathan just stood there staring.

"Well?" he prompted.

Catching back up with reality Nathan pulled down his pants in one swift move. He'd been free balling that day, so once he stepped out of his pants he was completely naked. Charles didn't really get a good look because as soon as he was naked Nathan leapt into bed next to Charles. And I do mean leapt. The springs squeaked and Charles found himself air born for a fraction of a second, landing flat on his back.

Unsure of himself Nathan fumbled at his partner's chest, halted for a second then fumbled again but in a different way.

"So, ah sex?" Nathan questioned, sounding suddenly unsure.

Charles sat back up leaning on his elbows in order to get a good look at Nathan's face. "Yes, that was the plan..." he trailed off trying to divine the problem.

Nathan blushed, not unlike a virgin, which was ridiculous. "I've never done this with a dude and I'm not sure what to do." he confessed.

Charles relaxed a little and moved to straddle Nathan. He ran his hands down Nathan's chest and fiddled absently with a nipple. "It's a lot like sex with a woman," he explained. "Only with more cock and less pussy."

Nathan relaxed under Charles' wandering hands and started to do some touching of his own. That was better. Charles sat back enough to rub his still cloth covered ass over Nathan's erect penis. If the heat and tension Charles could feel through the fabric of his boxers were any indication, Nathan was adjusting readily to the absence of pussy. Charles kept the rubbing up until the noises from Nathan indicated that he'd better hurry things the fuck along.

"Can you, ah reach into the bedside drawer for me?" Nathan looked confused. "The drawer?" Charles repeated.

Nathan grunted and pulled open the drawer.

Charles leaned over Nathan's chest to reach into the now open drawer. He pulled out a condom and a bottle of lube. Taking advantage of his proximity to Nathan's panting mouth, he kissed him deeply, all teeth and hunger and impatience. Breaking the kiss, he nipped his way along Nathan's jaw to whisper in his ear. "If I don't feel your cock moving inside me before I die, I swear to god I will haunt the fuck out of you."

Nathan gasped and pulled Charles down for another bruising kiss. While they were kissing, Charles' head held firmly in place by Nathan's powerful hands, Charles hooked fingers into his boxers and managed to get them off without breaking the kiss. When one long kiss turned into several smaller ones, Charles, the expert multitasker, uncapped the lube and poured a generous amount on to his hand. Reaching down between his legs he couldn't stop the gasp as the first slick finger found its way in. Nathan stopped kissing to look at what was going on.

"Holy shit." his eyes racked over the newly exposed flesh.

Mistaking awe for reluctance, Charles said sternly as he added another finger, "I'm not kidding; I will come back as a ghost and fuck you in your sleep."

Nathan smiled so wide his face almost hurt. He let his hands move over thighs and let his fingers dip where leg met torso. "Ghost-rape, you are too fucking perfect." He said with awe. One hand moved down to tentatively fondle Charles' balls. Charles lost his concentration and jammed a third finger just this side of too hard into himself.

"Shut up and fuck me." Charles panted once he recovered enough to speak.

Nathan grabbed the discarded condom and ripped it open, then rolled it down his impatient cock. He lined himself up just as Charles pulled the fingers from himself. One hand holding his dick steady, the other on Charles' hip, he guided him down. Ready for any signs of discomfort, because not to be cocky but Nathan knew he was hung, he was surprised when instead of pain Charles screamed out for more. Once he was fully inside Charles, straining not to just fuck into him like it was the last thing he'd ever do in life, Nathan flipped them so that Charles was on his back, facing him. Nathan grabbed his legs and spread him wider. He started moving, slow at first but gaining momentum as Charles' incoherent cries became louder and louder.

Eventually Nathan moved one hand to grip Charles' dripping cock.

"No!" Charles shouted, suddenly coherent.

Nathan backed off confused, but didn't pull out just yet.

"I want to *gasp* come just from you *pant* inside me."

Hot damn. Was it possible for his manager to get any hotter? Any dirtier? Any more damn perfect?

Nathan went back at it, plunging in deeper and harder and faster, angling himself to hit the spot that made Charles scream. True to his word, Charles came without any external stimulation. Cum spread between them and Nathan couldn't pull his eyes away. One last deep thrust into the spasming channel and Nathan came too, unable to hold on any longer.

Recovering his senses he gently extracted himself from Charles. He lay down pulling Charles' sticky, sweaty body close.

"Wow, that was..." Nathan started in total awe.

"Worth dying for?" Charles prompted.

"Yup. Defiantly."


	28. Chapter 25

"So, is it always going to be like that?" Nathan broke the comfortable silence they had been lounging in.

It was nice, the silence. The apartment was calm for once. If Charles listened very closely he could almost hear the refrigerator humming. He didn't even need to listen closely to hear Nathan's heart beating; it was right there, under his ear. It was comfortable and solid and Charles hoped it would continue to beat for a good long time. It may have been silly, but he had half expected the roof to cave in the moment they were done.

"Like what?" he questioned sleepily. It would have been nice to fall asleep and take advantage of the calm, but by the time he woke up, Pickles would be back and the apartment would most likely be returned to chaos.

"You know," Nathan look a bit embarrassed, "So... intense?"

Charles propped his head up and looked thoughtful. "You know, I don't know." he said with wonderment.

"How can you not know, I thought you'd done this before?" Nathan looked hurt, like maybe Charles had been lying about dating guys. 

"Well, I have, just never more than once with the same person." 

"What?" 

"They always died before we could do it again." 

Now Nathan looked worried. "They died right after having sex you?" 

"Not right after, no." Charles was looking a little worried himself. He hadn't consciously realized the correlation. "It was just always before we could do it again."

A thought occurred to Nathan. "Right. Let's do it again." 

"What? Right now?" 

"Yes, right now." Confirmed Nathan, rummaging around in the sheets. "Where'd the lube go?" 

Charles squirmed a bit and determined that's what had been digging into his side. He handed the bottle to Nathan. "But it's too-I'm not-!" 

Nathan pushed Charles on to his back, ignoring his feeble protests. He worked his way kissing and nibbling down Charles' chest with a clear destination in mind. 

Oh. Okay. This could be good. Charles shelved his previous objections. 

Seeing Charles relax into it Nathan looked up at him to smirk. "The guys were kind of explaining this to me and I've been wanting to try."

"Pickles?" Charles guessed. 

"And Skwisgaar too." Oh, wow. That was… unexpected, he was such a hit with all things female. The boys were just full of surprises. "It was great; Murderface curled up under the table and started to cry."

Charles laughed and stretched out, trying to bring as much of their skin into contact as possible. "Right. I wish I could have seen that." Charles had started to take a vicious sort of pleasure in making Murderface uncomfortable. Retaliation, if you will, for the stains that would never come out of his once spotless sofa. 

Nathan chuckled but got back to the matter at hand. From the living room they heard the sound of a door opening. It was probably just Pickles, and he was unlikely to interrupt them. 

Nathan, still a little unsure, even after all the advice, used his hand to stroke, once, twice, watching as Charles grew to full hardness. Nathan blew teasingly on the head and stroked fingers lightly up his inner thigh. Charles squirmed and whimpered and tried to keep his voice down. Nathan moved his head to lick tantalizingly close to the base and tasted the sweat there. Charles squirmed some more before giving it and crying out. "Just do it!" 

Nathan, done teasing, readied himself for the final blow, a trick Skwisgaar had demonstrated on a long neck beer bottle that had made Murderface leave the room. Before he could complete the movement, the door swung open. 

"Charlie?" a voice questioned. 

That wasn't Pickles. It was too feminine. 

Charles looked to the doorway with an expression of pure terror, only one person on earth still called him Charlie. 

"MOTHER?"

-

It had been a long time since Mrs. Offdensen, Nina if you didn't mind, Mrs. always made her feel old, had heard from her one and only son. There used to be phone calls, once a week, on Sunday nights like clockwork. But then something had happened. There had been half mentions of gorillas and death and Charlie had started telling her a confusing story about the floor collapsing and suddenly he was too busy on weekends to call his dear old mum. There had been a handful of short emails since, no personal information but he had mentioned passing the bar. Mostly they read like a template on polite but impersonal post cards. How are you, everything's fine, how's the weather? So she packed up her things and decided to pay him a visit. A fact finding mission if you will. She had called and left him a message informing him of her flight and when he failed to meet her at the airport she figured he was still "busy" and took a taxi. She tried to call the apartment, but there was no answer. When she arrived, bags in tow, she knock, polite like one should be. When there was no response again she stopped being polite and went back to being a mother. The door was unlocked, sloppy Charlie, so she took her maternal prerogative and barged right in. The place was a mess, whatever Charlie had been busy with, it certainly wasn't cleaning. Clothing everywhere, dirty dishes, and, dear god, what had happened to the sofa? She could have sworn the last time she had visited it had been white. There was some sort of muffled yelp from the closed bedroom door. Nina couldn't tell what her son was up to, but he was about to get a lecture on the merits and importance of cleanliness.

Nina barged right into the room, scathing words on the tip of her tongue.

"CHARLIE!"

Oh, so that's what he meant by 'busy'. Nina could understand. With a guy like that, she'd be busy too.

Author Notes: I would be much obliged if ever week or so someone could bug me to update this. Odds are good that I've written the next part but am just too lazy to edit and post it. Also, thanks again to all the wonderful people who keep favoriting this. And an extra special thanks to Otherwise Known As . . . for commenting on every chapter, I can't even being to tell you how much you made my day.


	29. Chapter 26

"Oh, Charlie! It's so good to see you dating again!"

They were all dressed now, seated at the dining room table having tea. Well, Nina was having tea. Charles was looking grimly at his untouched cup wondering if it might not be worth the pain of spilling scalding hot tea on himself to have an excuse to leave the table. Nathan had refused tea and was looking anywhere but at Mrs. Offdensen. Every time he happened to glance in her direction she seemed to be leering at him.

Charles had to suppress his first instinct to contradict anything his mother said on principle. It would just confuse Nathan and his mother wouldn't believe him anyway. So he made a noncommittal sound and continued to stare at his untouched tea.

Nina turned to address Nathan who was staring at a spot above the fridge like it might be the most brutal spot in all the world.

"He's been alone for just so long. I'm so glad to see he's finally met someone, particularly someone as handsome as you." Her eyes twinkled and she placed a hand on Nathan's arm in what was supposed to be a comforting gesture. The contact made Nathan twitch so hard he nearly fell out of his chair.

Nina took a sip of her tea, unconcerned with Nathan's sudden spasm, and turned back to Charles. "I left you a message on your answering machine informing you of my arrival, I don't know why you seem so surprised."

That was a dirty lie. Charles sputtered in anger and banged his fist on the table. "You did not! I haven't had a single message all week!"

Nathan finally tore his eyes away from the fridge. "Yeah, that might be my fault," he said guiltily. "You were out at one of those stupid meetings and I really wanted popcorn, but you said I wasn't allowed to use the microwave anymore and then Murderface said that cell phones can fry your brains with radiation and we figured if they can fry brains then popcorn should be easy but we couldn't find a cell phone so we used your cordless phone instead. It uh, didn't work."

Oh, god. Charles had been wondering why no one seemed to be calling him at home these days.

Nina laughed. "Oh, Charlie, I didn't realize your boyfriend was a comedian."

Charles just groaned and glanced over at his cordless phone. How had he missed the scorch marks and the loose wires? "Right, a comedian," he agreed weakly.

"Anyway, I've noticed that you seem to have acquired a guest bed in advance of my visit. How very thoughtful of you!"

Charles and Nathan exchanged confused looks over the table. Charles didn't have a guest bed... Unless she meant-

"It's so kind of you to think of your old mother. And here I was planning to stay in a hotel! It's so nice of you to let me stay here instead."

What? There was no way on earth his mother was staying-

"Wooo, doods!" and like a precisely timed sitcom, Pickles burst through the door. "Charles, you were totally right about the centipedes. Woooo."

"PICKLES!" All thoughts of correcting his mother left his head as Charles assessed his drummer for any signs of lethal damage. "That was a joke, those centipedes secret cyanide! Cyanide, as in the stuff they use to KILL PEOPLE!"

Toki, who had been standing behind Pickles, walked over to Charles carrying a balloon animal and a stuffed teddy bear. He tugged on an outraged Charles' sleeve. He said something in rapid Norwegian. Charles was able to make out the words doctor and okay. Okay was one of the first American words Toki had learned, although he consistently pronounced it okies.

Pickles crossed the living room to his favorite chair, losing his pants along the way. "Dood, chillax, the zoo called a bunch a' doctors and they said I'll live."

"Charlie," his mother's tea cup paused between lips and table. "Your apartment appears to have been invaded by a pants-less drug addict and a small child speaking in tongues."

If Satan owed him any favors, Charles was hopping the floor would open up and swallow him whole. And with Dethklok around, it was always a possibility. Charles buried his face in his hands. "Toki's an adult, mother, he's nineteen. And they're not invading, they live here."

Nina delicately placed her cup down on the table. She carefully considered her next words before speaking. "You know Charlie, if you're having money trouble you can always-"

"No mom, god! I'm fine!" he almost considered pulling out Dethklok's account book to show her just how fine they were. She raised an eyebrow disbelievingly. "They're my," and was Charles really going to say it? Yes, he was going to say it. "They're my friends mother."

She looked askance at the pants-less redhead sprawled on the chair, picking his nose.

Pickles came back down to earth long enough to notice the lady in the room. "Dood, who's the chick?"

Nathan answered back, mostly because Charles was still too horrified to speak.

"That's no chick, it's Charles' mom."

"Nina, if you would." she called over her shoulder from her spot at the table.

"Oh, shit!" there was a crash as Pickles fell out of his chair and hit the coffee table in his hast to put his pants back on.

-  
Nina had settled her things in the guest room. There was no getting rid of her now. Nathan was going to have to stay with Charles in his room. It was a sacrifice they were just going to have to make.

After taking a look in the refrigerator, half empty take-out containers and a few expired condiments, Nina left for the grocery store. She'd taken Toki along. Even after learning he was legally an adult there was just something about him that sent her mothering instinct into overdrive.

Satan might not have been taking Charles' calls but someone up there must still have been smiling on him. Skwisgaar was thankfully absent. Charles had half expected him to show up just because it was the only thing that could make matters worse. The man had a sixth sense for untapped MILF.

Charles was sorting out the papers in the office/guestroom. There were bills for damages caused by Dethklok, tentative contracts and pages and pages of notes on Gavin Gunhold and his Sumerian artifact. Charles hadn't come any closer to figuring out what this Metalocalypse was all about and if he should be starting it or trying to stop it.

Distracted by the top most page of conjecture, Charles didn't notice Nathan sliding up behind him.

"You know, Pickles is passed out again and I never did get to show you that trick I learned."

Charles put down the notes and turned around to face Nathan. "You're right," he said. "For the sake of your continued existence we should probably go have sex, right now."

Nathan smiled as he invaded Charles' personal space. Traffic could be hairy at this hour. They probably had another hour or so till Mrs. Ofdensen and Toki got back. That should give them plenty of time.

Charles gave him his best seductive look as he wrapped his arms around Nathan's neck.

"So, want to go break a curse?"


	30. Chapter 27

Author Notes: My sincerest thanks yous to sjofn0nott(lj) for beta'ing.

Because this is Charles' life and the universe _hates_ him, they are interrupted before they can get anywhere meaningful. At this point it would appear that the curse is trying to kill them both by pure frustration alone. Charles would have to say that the curse is doing an excellent job of it. If Nathan is interrupted on the downward path to his knees one more time, Charles swears he is going to kill someone. Speaking of which, Nathan Explosion on his knees is hot_, _like unfucking believable, cum in your pants _hot_. Charles doesn't know which of the boys convinced Nathan that you haven't lived until you've given someone a blowjob, but Charles loves them for it. Some day he will figure out which one it was and buy them their own third world nation. He hoped it was Pickles, it would be relatively easy to buy him one of those small, fractured, opium producing states.

Pickles, who was not quite passed out but in a vegetative state, started hollering from the living room. The phone was ringing. Since the oh so tragic mishap with the popcorn, the phone no longer rang in the conventional manner. The screen lights up and there is the faintest smell of burnt popcorn. Pickles happened to be starring blankly at the phone exactly as it happened. The shouts interrupted the very engaging downward path of Nathan's tongue. Charles never realized there would be so many obstacles once he had decided to go through with the sex.

He made it to the phone, with his unbuttoned pants sliding down his hips just before the phone went to the now defunct answering machine. It was Crystal Mountain Records and they had agreed to Charles' completely unreasonable terms. He would have shouted for joy, but he is a real lawyer now with the piece of paper to prove it, and anyway, if he cheers he's liable to lose his grip on his pants.

Sometime during the conversation Nathan came to stand in the doorway. He'd taken the time to replace his pants but not his shirt. Damn, it had probably fallen behind the bed his mother was planning to sleep in tonight. He should fix that before she came home.

Nathan was leaning up against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his bare chest, smiling. Charles had on his serious lawyer face but Nathan could see through it to the giddy excitement underneath. Well, if they had to be interrupted at least it was good news.

When Charles puts down the phone, Pickles lifted his head up long enough to ask after the phone call.

"It would seem," Charles began, still amazed by the news himself. "That Dethklok ah, has been signed by a major record company."

His mother shows up sooner than he was expecting, so it ends up not mattering so much that they were interrupted by the phone. Charles figures at this point either they will either have sex again or the world will end and once one happens the other won't be nearly so important. His mom cooked a genuinely home cooked meal. She got Toki to help but he ended up being even more of a terror in the kitchen than Nathan. The smoke detector went off twice and Pickles was forced to remove the batteries. The shrill beeping was harshing his buzz.

Because no one's luck is that good, Murderface showed up at the start of dinner. He was rude and smelly and he belched loudly. For some strange reason Nina seemed to like him. She insisted on giving him second helpings of everything. He tells her that for an old bitch, she's alright and against all common sense she finds him endearing. Charles escaped to his bedroom at the earliest possible convenience, because some how he has regressed to a sullen teenager who hides behind his bedroom door.

He escaped before he can remember to tell people that there is a meeting tomorrow to sign the contract. Oh well, the people in the living room already have some idea and Charles can just use his cell phone to call Skwissgaar and the other one.

Once he is done with the phone calls, he starts to hear peculiar noises from the living room. It reminded him a bit of that one awful time he went camping and some bird of prey laid waste to an entire warren of rabbits just outside his tent. He would go investigate but he was still channeling his inner moody teen. So instead he sits on his bed and pouts while trying to read up on contractual law. There is just something about his mother's presence that makes him feel like a kid again, and not in a good way.

After a while Nathan comes by to find him.

"Dude, what are you doing in here?" He didn't even bother to knock, just walked right in and interrupted the good sulk Charles had going.

Charles wasn't about to admit that he's pouting because his mother brings out the worst in him, so he grunted and turned the page like he was actually reading. Nathan continued.

"Your mom is teaching us this totally brutal game. You write shit on pieces of paper and then some has to pick a piece of paper and act that shit out without making a fucking sound."

"I do believe that is called charades?" Charles made it a question as he has played charades with his mother before and no variation of the game could be called brutal except in a bang-your-head-against-the-wall kind of way.

"Right, charades," Nathan agrees. "It's totally awesome!" This feeling reminded Charles a lot of when he first met Nathan. All the words are familiar but he can't quite place what they mean in this particular context.

"What do you mean awesome?"

Nathan grinned like a fool and tried to drag Charles off the bed. "The person who picks has to act out what it says on the piece of paper."

"Right," Charles agreed standing reluctantly. He's played charades before; he's familiar with the rules.

"So," Nathan said like it should be obvious. "If we all write something really gay on our pieces of paper and Murderface picks it..." Nathan trailed off waiting for Charles to get with the program.

"Oh!" That really should have been obvious. "That sounds ah, very entertaining." That would explain why it sounded like a wounded creature dying in the living room.

"It is," Nathan said leading the way and grinning like mad.

As Charles followed him into the living room and the raucous laughter and girly screaming, he was already thinking up horrible, horrible things he could write down and make other people try to do. He thought he would go for a blend of needlessly obscure along with blatantly gay. Catamite seemed like an excellent choice. Not only would William have to face the slight to his tenuous masculinity, but he'd also feel like an idiot when he needed the term defined. When Charles imagined the potential look on William's face, it almost made the horrors of his mother's visit seem worthwhile.


End file.
